


We Fall like This, with Both Hands

by androgenius



Series: We Fall Like This [2]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jon's boyfriend Karl decides that the two of them should have a baby, Lea seems like the perfect surrogate for the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The silverware seems to clink almost oppressively around them. It's their _date night_ , but Jon is hardly focused enough to notice the way his food tastes-- the way it's missing a little bit of salt, as things usually do for him-- let alone notice that he's daydreaming. 

It's Lea's birthday. He needs to call her later, as he'd promised the previous night precisely at midnight PST. He'd set his alarm for five minutes to three a.m. and everything, just as planned. When he'd promised that he'd call later in the evening, after he'd actually gotten some sleep, he'd completely forgotten about date night, an errant hand suddenly coming up to fight his tie here, now, in the oppressive reality in which he's finding himself once more, Karl waving an impatient hand in his face.

"Earth to Jon, where'd you go? Your champagne risotto is getting cold, romeo."

"Sorry," he mutters as he runs a hand through his unruly curls, not sure whether he's more sorry to the risotto or to Karl, who apparently wasn't important enough to listen to anymore. It really makes him feel bad, straightening in his seat and doing his best to offer rapt, undivided attention.

"Anyway, as I was telling you," Karl says, nudging his head over to the other table with a grin, indicating where he ought to let his gaze fall. 

It's a surprise, certainly. For a second he thinks Karl might be talking about the elderly woman dressed in the couch-like floral pattern, and then quickly decides against it when a screaming baby comes into focus, spitting up something that distinctly looks like it was just chewed up and semi-digested by a particularly vicious bird of prey.

"Uh, the... baby?"

"It's adorable," and he laughs, his nose crinkling in just the way Jon usually finds adorable _on him_. But, really, _babies_?

"Kind of a lot harder for us than the rest of the population," he chuckles, a clear indicator that, were it up to Jon, this conversation would be over right now. "Besides, it's not like we're anywhere close to that kind of... decision-making point in our relationship. We've only been dating for--"

"-- a year and two months," Karl finished with a grin, reaching over the table to take his hand. "Living together for four now. Besides, you keep talking about that friend Lea, and how close you two are, right? I'm sure she'd be happy to play surrogate. Come on, it'd be fun."

"Karl," he starts very slowly, brow furrowed as though he's staring at an incredibly hard math problem, " _fun_ is really not the adjective you should be thinking of here. _High maintenance_ , maybe. A _big investment in one's future_ , yes, that, too. _Huge decision we can't possibly be making right now_ , definitely."

&

By nine p.m. that evening, he can't stop thinking about it.

It's made him delay calling Lea, actually, this whole baby business. The thought of her carrying his baby is actually surprisingly endearing, and therefore something he doesn't want to spend too much time thinking about. It's still a huge decision, of course, but... still. 

It has him terrified that she might say _no_ all of a sudden, and he finally makes a grab for the phone without a second thought to the matter.

Just as always, she picks up on the third ring. It's nice, calming, knowing that the routine of Lea's existence in his life will always be there for him to fall back on, no matter what happens.

"Hey!"

"Hey, birthday girl," he grins into his phone, and he's certain she can hear it. "Promised you I'd call, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir. You did, indeed."

"How was your day?"

Their phone conversations-- much to Karl's chagrin at times, particularly when he was feeling horny and wanted Jon all to himself-- usually lasted a good hour or so, depending on how long it had been since they'd last spoken. Ever since he'd started doing another musical on Broadway, and she'd gotten stuck doing the Glee spin-off, things had slowed down a bit, but occasionally they managed fifteen minutes every day or so. Whenever it turned into two, three days between calls, that's when they usually started turning into hour-long conversations. 

At least he'd gotten better at hiding his phone calls, stepping outside for a "walk" before calling her, or waiting until Karl was out for class at the culinary institute. 

She'd had an alright birthday as it turned out, spending most of it in downtown LA hanging out with friends, but missing him terribly. She detailed the new clothes she'd gotten on her shopping spree, and told one particular story that had stood out to her about the cutest puppy she'd run into during her morning run in the park.

"Though I missed my daddy, of course."

It rolls off her tongue so easily. They used to celebrate their birthdays together back when she lived in New York, messing around the city, going to their favorite restaurants and going to see whatever show happened to be playing at the time. 

"What's been going on with you?"

He almost doesn't want to answer, his words seemingly stuck in his throat as he got up to walk into the kitchen, pinning the phone between ear and shoulder as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. 

"Karl's gone baby crazy."

It doesn't sound one bit like it catches her off guard, and she laughs, offering a blithe _oh?_ in response.

"Said we should get one. That it would be _fun_. He said you could be the surrogate, since I'm sure you'd be so willing to have my babies." It was meant to _come out_ sounding like a joke. It was _meant_ sincerely, Jon biting his lip as he replaced the orange juice in the fridge once more as he grabbed hold of his cell phone and took a long sip from his glass.

"My parents would be _thrilled_ ," she laughed, sounding far too genuine. Not that she was, in any way, wrong, of course. Maybe he could finally get that house her dad had promised him, too. "I don't know. It would be fun. We'd be great parents."

"Well, Karl thinks _we'd_ be great parents," he laughs, though it doesn't even make its way over the phone line, finishing hollow. "You'd just have to be a walking blimp for nine months so he could have his little bundle of joy. Not what I call fair."

"But think about it," she continues, grinning all the way from Los Angeles to New York, "that would be one fantastic set of genes coming together, you and me."

"You're right," he sighs softly, a defiant smile forcing itself onto his face without his permission before he can stop it. Clearing his throat, he turns around, leaning against the counter on his elbows as he runs errant fingers through his hair. 

"Adorable, talented... what wouldn't there be to love?"

It feels like he's in a train station, surrounded by people, most of them ahead of him. Both Karl and Lea have boarded the train, and he's been left behind to fend for himself, not sure what happened and when, precisely, he lost track of things. 

"You're not serious," he laughs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he feels a headache coming on. Are they really considering this? Why haven't they mentioned this to him any sooner, that they were planning this behind his back? 

He's not sure if it isn't _more_ terrifying to consider that this likely wasn't planned by them. The world has just turned its back on Jon. Even on their way home from the too-expensive restaurant there had been babies _everywhere_.

"Maybe I am," she grins into the phone, and he _knows_ she's serious. He knows all of Lea's verbal and physical tics as if by heart now-- she's easy to read. They've taken to picking up each other's, too, like that horrible habit she has playing with her hair. He always knows instantly when he starts playing with his hair like she does, that it's getting too long again. 

"I'll think about it," he says, tinge of a smile evident in the undercurrent of his voice. He feels every bit as though he's lost this battle already.

&

"I mean, we're both consenting adults, right? What's the big deal?"

A week later, and she's _still_ talking about it. For once, Karl isn't even upset about his excess phone time with Lea, amused smile playing on his lips as he watches the conversation unfold from his vantage point at the bar while Jon does his best to make stir-fry with one hand, occasionally pinning the phone between ear and shoulder.

"Besides," she continues, "I'm in my prime. If we wait much longer, I might not be able to have your babies, and _that_ would be a real tragedy."

"Lea, you _just_ turned twenty-eight. I don't think there's any real sense of urgency we need to be worried about just yet."

"Now's as good a time as any," he hears his boyfriend cutting in with a laugh and he can't help but throws him a _look_. 

" _Behave_ ," he mouths to him as Karl rounds the counter to pull him into a kiss on the cheek before letting him go again to disappear into the bathroom. 

"I'm just saying," Lea repeats, "it's like you planted this... bug in my ear, and now you're expecting it to just go away on its own."

She's right, of course. He hasn't been able to sleep right for all of his thinking about it too much and half-heartedly hoping that they might just drop it. It's a fruitless endeavor, stupid. 

"So what, you'd like me to fly out to LA with a turkey baster of our combined sperm in it?"

"Our child is _not_ going to be Rachel Berry," she jokes, and even he finds himself smiling at the thought. "Besides, I'd be having _your_ child, not Karl's. That's not even an option."

It's a miracle they're still talking about _woulds_ and _shoulds_ and _mights_ at this point. From listening to Lea, one would get the idea that this is already decided and arranged. 

Karl returns to the room to wrap his arms around his lover from behind, silly grin on his face. 

"You're softening up to the idea, I can tell." The way he licks his lips before they twist into a mischievous smirk is enough to send Jon back into the reality of why they're doing this. Karl and him-- _not_ Lea and him-- apparently want a baby to raise. The fact that Lea is going to be the mother is purely by chance, and has no real bearing on anything.

It makes him feel physically ill for a moment, shaking his head to rid himself of the offensive thoughts as he steps out of Karl's arms with a soft pat on his ass before returning to the stir-fry.

"Besides, it would have to be you, you know. That ought to make both of you happy. My uncle is a carrier for tay-sachs, and I'm pretty sure that I'd be too great of a risk. And I mean, you two can always go to a clinic and have it done there. You don't need to bring a turkey baster, I don't think," he winks, leaning his hips back against the counter, palms splayed out against the cool marble. He looks almost _edible_ , and Jon throws him a smirk over his shoulder, thoughts anywhere but on babies right now."

" _Or_ ," Lea cuts in, seemingly grinning on her end, as well, " _or_ we could use the traditional method."

That stops him mid-thought, eyes going wide as he throws a guilty glance at Karl before promptly returning his attention to the wok in front of him. 

"You're not saying--"

"He doesn't have to know," she whispers, and he feels himself turning red, the color slowly, steadily traveling up his neck and over his face as he licks his lips, mouth suddenly gone dry. "How long has it been since you've had _really_ good sex?"

She's lying back against her bed from the sound of it, probably playing with her hair the way she does every time she's blatantly flirting with him. If Karl wasn't around-- and really, this evening is all about special circumstances, as he normally isn't-- this would turn into phone sex right about now. 

Sex with Lea isn't anything new. It started the night they left _Spring Awakening_ together, both of them drunk on emotions and tears and the fears of losing one another now that they wouldn't be seeing each other as frequently.

In retrospect, it had been a silly thing to panic about. On the other hand, neither of them minded the change in their relationship much. It was nice to stop pretending.

They were also incredibly compatible in bed.

"Uh, all the time? Lea, there's nothing wrong with--"

"But he's not me," she cuts in, and his throat constricts with the unspoken words he can't bring himself to say with Karl in the room. No, he's not Lea. Karl is never going to be Lea, and maybe part of that is the problem. _No one_ is ever going to be Lea.

"No, he's not," he reaffirms with a soft sigh, Karl's hands slipping expertly into his back pockets as he leans his chin on top of his shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck.

"Almost done?"

"Hey, can I call you back later? I think Karl and I are going to finish dinner, and discuss this a bit more, and then we'll see."

"Sure thing, daddy," she grins into the phone before hanging up, knowing exactly what Jon is saying even without him having to say it. They'll talk later. Maybe they'll do more than talk.

"I'm right, aren't I? You're liking this idea more and more."

"What I _like_ is the idea of us putting dinner aside to reheat later so I might fuck you into the mattress."

"I think I can get behind that idea, yeah," Karl grins against his skin, sucking harder at the crook of his shoulder, enough to make him moan out loud. 

"I think you mean _in front of_ ," he mutters hotly, reaching to strip off his t-shirt in one go before pinning Karl against the fridge.

When neither of them is wearing anything two minutes later, little else but groans and gasps filling the apartment, Jon isn't even sure that he's not simply trying to compensate for whatever is going on between him and Lea right now.

On the other hand, he's not sure that he cares.

&

"Yeah, we just landed. We're still coasting, and technically we're not supposed to use our cell phones, but come on, we're on the ground, right? Are you already here? -- yeah, I'll-- I'll see you soon, then." He can't help the way his face splits into the widest grin. He'd been so certain that she'd get stuck in traffic, and that he'd end up waiting for a good hour or inevitably taking a cab to get to her condo, but she's actually here, and he keeps beaming at the strangers around him. Can't help but.

Jon really, _truly_ , is a nice person most of the time, and typically he'll stay seated for as long as possible while everyone else pushes and shoves their way to the front of the airplane and out of there. Today, however, he's part of the herd, carry-on luggage in hand (the only luggage he's brought, thanking his lucky stars that he's not part of the gay culture that feels the need to carry around a _murse_ ) as he fights his way to the front and down the breeze way to where she would be waiting.

He's always loved airports. The air is always filled with excitement and trepidation and a lingering sense of thrill. His favorite part of them, however, is seeing the reunions-- especially during the holidays-- people's faces going through a myriad of emotions left and right as they say _goodbye_ or _hello_ once more. Even in movies, they're always his favorite parts. 

It's September, and the holidays seem as far away as ever, but that doesn't change the mood for either of them when Jon drops his bags, runs to Lea, picks her up, and spins her until she's surely dizzy. 

Her hair smells like peaches, like it always has, and he almost doesn't want to let her go, she fits so perfectly into his arms, where she belongs, soft and small.

"I missed you so much," he whispers into her hair, and he can feel himself tearing up despite his best efforts not to. She smells too good, fits against him too well.

"I missed you, too," she whispers back, and he can hear that, unlike him, she's let go of any semblance of self-control, her voice cracking. They're attracting stares, but he really couldn't care about the rest of LAX right now; it's as if the whole rest of the world has dissolved with nothing but them left in it.

When he reluctantly pulls away, thumbs reaching up to wipe her tears from her cheeks as his hands gingerly cup her face, he can't help but laugh softly at his own tearing up, Lea's shirtsleeve immediately there to help him out, too.

"Come on, daddy. Let's get out of here."

Grabbing his previously discarded and forgotten bags with one hand, the other immediately seeks hers out to hold with a bright grin. It feels so natural, if he closed his eyes and pretended, he could see them back on Broadway at midnight, Lea having had the brilliant idea to go on an impromptu walk down their favorite street in the middle of the summer night. 

"So what did you do, leave your place three hours ago?" he jokes as he loads his bags into the trunk with a smirk before rounding the car to get in.

"Something like that." 

She's got that smile on her face that tells him she actually did it, wanted them to have their airport reunion badly enough to get up at the crack of dawn. 

When she starts pulling out of the LAX parking lot, the car safely put in _drive_ , her hand finds his again, her thumb absently drawing circles on his knuckles while his other hand gets his phone out to text Karl that he's arrived safely, and that he can stop worrying about him.

"Thanks for letting me stay with you."

"You're kidding, right? Jonathan, don't be ridiculous. You always stay with me." Then there's a beat, and he knows exactly what she's going to say even before she says it. "Unless this is about..."

"I haven't made up my mind yet," he finishes for her with a sigh, staring out the window as he clicks his phone off once more. 

"I know you haven't," she smiles over at him, briefly letting go of his hand to reach out and touch his cheek before promptly returning to its previous spot. "Though I can't say I won't try to change your mind."

"I'm pretty sure Steve would mind if I went and impregnated his girlfriend," he offers her pointedly over the top of his sunglasses, making her shrug and throw him another one of those Can't Be Trusted trademark grins of hers.

"What he doesn't know..."

" _I meant_ you walking around pregnant with my kid. Kind of hard to hide that one, baby."

"I'll just tell him we used a turkey baster. Besides, it's not like I'm going to be raising it," she says again, making him wonder why she's so intent on following through with this idea in the first place, "well, _much_ , anyway. Look," she continues, squeezing his hand lightly, "just worry about your audition for now, and we can always revisit the baby situation after you're done with that."

"Well, if I don't make a decision soon, I'm going to mess up my audition since it'll be all I'm thinking about."

"I know." Truth is, she knows him too well for her own good, sometimes. "If you got this part, would you..."

"Move here? I'm not sure. Karl's still taking classes, so I might just move in with you for a while. I doubt he'd mind."

"Even if I just happened to be carrying your seed to term at the time?" she laughs, nudging his arm with her elbow as she finally gets off the highway and back into the far more familiar, intimate part of LA that he enjoys. It reminds him of Lea-- not in the way that New York will always remind him of Lea, but it still feels like a second home. 

"Hey, all the more reason to spend all the time in the world with you, right?" Even if he can't bring himself to fully get behind this ridiculous idea, he still can't stop the grin from spreading across his face, wide. Her enthusiasm has always been infectious.

&

"What's wrong with Steve?" he finally asks her as she burrows herself more closely into the crook of his arm, the bowl of kettle corn firmly nestled between her legs. They're not even watching the movie anymore, Jon too preoccupied with the babies on seemingly everyone's brain. LA is almost as littered with them as it's littered with empty beer bottles, and it's hard to get in a single clear thought when he's surrounded by constant texts from Karl and nudges from Lea. "I mean, you two are thinking about moving in together anyway, right?" He still can't shake the feeling that he really doesn't like Steve, but he's not about to tell her that. "Since you're in your _prime_ and all, why not just settle down?"

"That's different," she says after thinking about it for a moment and looking up at him with a bemused expression playing in her eyes, as though she has no idea why he doesn't already know the answer to his own question. "I could never see myself spending the rest of my life with him."

"You realize that this is _Karl'_ s idea. That it would be _our_ baby." The thought makes his heart hurt, trying to consider just how much Lea wouldn't be able to stand not seeing something that she and Jon had made, like a real couple.

"Maybe I could move in with the two of you. We'd see each other more, and there would be more hands to help raise the little thing." She grins up at him, big, soft, brown eyes, and he has to physically restrain himself from kissing her, forcing his eyes back to the tv screen. The actor on it looks like Karl, actually, and it's a nice distraction from everything that Lea is. Karl looks nothing like her-- absurdly skinny, tall, blonde, glasses. 

He's also possessive of Jon, not that he can really blame him. It would never work.

"You know that's one of the reasons I'm hesitant about this, right?"

"Besides," she ignores him, blatantly staring at his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again, "Stephen is infertile."

That throws him off guard even more than the way she's staring at him, or the way she's twirling her hair again. "What? Why?"

"He got a vasectomy two years ago. Said he just didn't want to take the chance." There's a pause as she studies his features and the judgment evident in his expression, and she promptly shakes her head. "It's not a big deal. I respect his decision. He's not the one I want to have kids with."

Reaching forward to grab the remote, he turns the TV off, leaning forward until his forehead is resting on hers. She's practically already in his lap, her legs swung over his as the rest of her body seemed to conform with the idea of cuddling up to him as much as possible. 

"I'll think about it," he whispers, and she smiles as though she's already won him over. Maybe she has. 

"Do you want something to drink?" He's almost reluctant to nod lest she pull away, but she's far ahead of him, already up to get them both glasses and a bottle of wine.

"I missed this," she mutters softly as they curl up once more, Jon smiling into her hair.

"Who knows, maybe with that audition..." 

He really would like staying with her. There was a time, just before he met Karl, that he took a good month to disappear to California, spending all of his time with Lea while she wasn't working as much as usual. They acted like an actual couple most of the time already, but messing around Los Angeles with her on most days had seemed to further reinforce that notion.

And some days, they hardly even bothered leaving the bed, the slight dip at Lea's hip perfect for his hand to settle into as the other tangled in her hair, holding on as they got lost in a mess of sheets together between kisses, gasps, pants.

Returning to New York after had been hell, and as much as he loved the city, it just wasn't the same with Lea by his side

He'd met Karl about two weeks later at an LGBT fundraising charity event, with his crooked smirk and his ability as a natural in the kitchen. He painted, too, and Jon realized that a fellow artist-- any artist-- was what he needed in his life right now. 

Not that Karl cooked for them often. Most evenings he refused, preferring to watch as Jon cooked for him after having done it all day in class already. Not that he minded, but every time that Lea and him got together, they always did it together. It wasn't anything overtly fancy or avant garde, but it was nice, and made him feel at home.

"I've been thinking about it a lot, you know," she interjects, interrupting his thoughts in the process. "You and me. Us."

He stares at her for a moment, not sure what to make of the expression on her face, his upper arm coming to rest on the back of the couch, as he props his head up with his fist, facing her.

"Last summer was... everything I could have hoped and dreamed for it to be."

"I assume you're not breaking up with Steve to join a bohemian hippie commune with me where we can be together forever." Really, it's _Stephen_. But calling him _Steve_ feels so much more appropriate. Loads of assholes are named Steve, almost like an ongoing theme throughout recent history and the media. It seems fitting.

"I miss having sex with you." She takes a long sip from her glass, Jon suddenly alerted to the fact that he's already finished his. It's a bad habit, getting lost in thought and conversation and hardly even noticing that suddenly, the whole bottle has been finished off.

" _Ah_ ," he chuckles, grinning at her. "I thought we said we'd limit things to phonesex while we were respectively unavailable?" And even that was questionable at times. Jon always feels a little guilty, leaving to go on a _walk_ only to disappear up to the roof of the building just to hear her get off on his voice, moaning for him. It only gets worse when he returns to find Karl already asleep in their bed, arms wrapped about Jon's pillow. 

Jon might top, but he's always been the little spoon. It makes his stomach twist into something wretched, knowing that Lea and him are keeping such a massive secret from the whole world. He's never been good with them, secrets.

Not to say that he doesn't want her; he does. More than anything. She's only wearing a skimpy little thing, black and lacy, falling to just above mid-thigh. When she shifts on the couch, everything becomes uncovered, of course, and when she bends hardly at all, he can see for _miles_.

It's almost like she's planned this.

"I know we did," she finishes her glass, looking somewhat dejectedly torn before pouring both of them more to drink. He knows what she's doing, of course. It might be working. Maybe it's definitely working. "It's just-- you're right here, and if we're doing, you know. We'll do that anyway. And I just thought... "

"You realize that lies are a terrible way to fuel a relationship, right?"

"I'm not even sure Stephen would mind. And... Karl kind of knew what he was getting himself into anyway, right?"

He takes a slow, long sip of his wine, smirking down at her as his arm falls around her, wrapping about her waist until his fingers are playing at the skin of her upper thigh, unbelievably soft, moving higher, caressing the smooth curve of her ass. He's half-hard by now, something no other girl can do to him. Just Lea.

"I know what you're doing, Lea," he whispers conspiratorially into her ear as he leans forward to deposit first his glass, and then hers onto the table. "And it's not working." Yes it is. 

"What am I doing?" But she's smirking, and it's _anything_ but innocent. 

She doesn't even offer him time to answer her before she moves to sit up onto her legs, kissing him, hard.

The reaction on both sides is almost instantaneous. If he wasn't gay, this might have felt like cheating with an ex, returning to the familiarity and comfort of the past. Maybe he is. He's comfortable with Karl, but another part of him is sure, is _certain_ that no one is ever going to feel as _right_ in his arms as Lea does.

"We really shouldn't do this," he mutters hotly against her lips, but even despite his most valiant efforts, he knows that he's coming apart in the face of her hands, her body, her lips as she moves to straddle him, already tugging his shirt off his body, leaving it to land somewhere on the dark grain of her hardwood floor. 

Maybe he's just gay with a side of Lea. It seems an acceptable alternative, a groan leaving him as he tugs the lacy black thing off of her body, impatient fingers slipping into the waistband of her matching panties to demand them gone while she struggles with his belt buckle. 

There's a moment of _not enough skin contact_ as he pulls down jeans while she removes the last offending piece of clothing from her body, promptly straddling him again. 

The skin-on-skin contact is feverish, desperate, as if it's somehow even better since they're technically, _technically_ not supposed to-- especially compared to the sweet, loving sex from the previous summer. 

This is different, and it makes him realize just _how much_ he's really been missing her. 

"Say it," she moans, her hand moving down to work furiously at his length as she watches his face for the reactions she wants, _knows_ she can get. "Say my name. Tell me you want me."

"Fuck, Lea-- of course I want you," he bites back a groan, licking his lips as his head falls back. 

Then a thought hits him, something from earlier about Steve having had a vasectomy and he pulls back from her in a panic, breathing shallow. "You're-- you're still on birth control, right?" He knows how much she hates condoms, and it would only make sense that she'd have no trouble barebacking if the asshole was actually clean.

"I-- no," she breathes, looking to him as if she's just caught hold of the perfect opportunity without really trying. 

"Lea, _no_ \--"

"I have condoms, hold on," she mutters, climbing off of him and disappearing for a brief second into her bedroom. He has half the mind to tell her not to bother, his slightly buzzed, lust-addled brain feeling just barely brave enough for a moment, but then she's back the next second, little package in her hand, and a bright smile on her face.

"Happy?"

"Very," he grins even though now, he's not so sure anymore. 

For the moment, however, it doesn't matter, Lea getting down on her knees in front of him to put his condom on, her mouth sliding after to suck him off through it, earning her a healthy groan as his hips buck up. "L- _Lea_ \--"

"Come to mama," she purrs, climbing back into his lap with enough pruriency to make him seriously question whether Steve is any good in bed at all.

When she slides home on top of him, he can hardly hold back his groan against her lips.

"We're not doing this here," he mutters hotly as he picks her up, holding her up by her perfect little ass to carry her into the bedroom. "I want to be able to fuck you properly, baby."

"Daddy--"

They don't make it to the bedroom, stopping somewhere between the couch and her bed where he's got her pressed up against the wall, thrusting into her over and over hard enough to deceive the pictures of them she has up on the wall into thinking there's a mild earthquake.

"Tell me, daddy-- tell me I'm the only one that can ever do this to you."

This is where he runs into trouble. Last summer, neither of them dating anyone else, this was an easy thing to do, reaffirming her worth in the face of her doubts. Still-- Karl is never going to be Lea, and it's like he can hear his own words echoing in his head.

"No one," he breathes, imagining for a moment what it would be like to come in her, knowing that she could end up pregnant, marking her permanently as his. 

It's enough to send him over the edge as he comes, Lea's walls clenching around his length with her own vaginal orgasm. 

"Fuck, baby," he pants, just holding her there for the moment, one shaky hand coming up to gingerly tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear as he kisses her again.

"You're fantastic," she laughs softly, letting her head fall back against the wall with a _thud_. "Best fuck I've ever had, you are."

"You flatter me too much," he smirks, lifting her up and off the wall to carry her to the bed, gently setting her down before pulling out of her and briefly disappearing into the bathroom to tug off the condom, tying it shut and dropping it into the wastebasket.

"Is Steve going to get suspicious if he sees the condom in your trash?" he laughs, leaning into the doorframe of the bathroom.

"I doubt he'll notice. He didn't even notice when I brought my hair products over a week or so ago." There's a pause as she rolls onto her side, one hand propping up her head, the other absently playing at the stitching of the comforter, her gaze never leaving his. "Promise me you'll think about it?"

"Yeah," he nods slowly, moving to sit up onto the bed beside her, one hand reaching out to stroke her cheek. "I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

"Well?" She sounds like she's sitting at the end of her seat, and he can't help but grin into his phone.

"Good news or bad news first?"

"Um, bad, I guess. What's wrong?"

"Bad news, I'm pretty sure I botched the audition like expected, but who knows, maybe they'll just love me for my beautiful face, like you do. Anyway, I spent too much time thinking about things other than my audition, so good news, I think--"

"We're going to have a kid?!" 

She sounds so excited, it's like he can _hear_ her jumping up into the air and tearing up on the other end, and suddenly it's all he can do from tearing up himself, short, disbelieving laugh escaping him as a grin spreads across his whole face, threatening to take him over. 

"Yeah. We're going to be parents."

They're really doing this. They're _really_ doing this. 

Still, it would do them well to remember that him and _Karl_ are going to be parents, not him and Lea. But right now, it couldn't be further from his mind, hearing Lea lose her mind in excitement on the other end of the phone.

There are still so many unknowns, of course. Whether Lea will actually be able to conceive with him, whether everything will come out healthy, ten fingers, ten toes, if he shouldn't be going in for an extensive physical before going and doing anything as foolhardy as this, but right now, the only thing that matters is how little everything matters-- with the lone exception of the fact that Lea is going to have his baby, and that they're trying to get pregnant. 

"Okay, so here's how this is going to work," she starts, and he can practically hear her sitting up, see her taking out pad and pencil to scribble down _notes_. It always reminds him of his audition for Melchior when they first met, Lea running him through step by step how to win over the director. 

Love at first sight.

"You're going to come back to my place as quickly as possible, and we're going to ceremoniously dump out every condom in the place just in case you change your mind so you won't be able to. And then we can proceed to cover every square inch of this condo with our terrible reputations." She giggles-- that laugh that lights up the whole room for him-- but he knows she's (somewhat) serious.

On his end, he's still grinning. "Yes, ma'am. We certainly will." 

It's only when he hangs up that he realizes that he needs to call Karl, his stomach twisting into a knot. Forcing the smile back onto his face, he selects him out of the speed dial list, right underneath Lea's name, and silently hopes he might get his answering machine. 

He doesn't.

"Hey, Buckaroo," he hears on the other end of the line, making him smile in spite of himself, "how's LA?"

Karl has always been convinced that Jon has to have cowboy roots in him, that his family-- who does love him, admittedly, despite their constant reminders that they vastly prefer Lea over the boys he brings home-- with the slight Amish background, has to be at least a little bit more badass in their past to have hailed such an incredibly talented, unique son. 

And with that bit of tomfoolery, Jon lightly punching Karl in the arm as he laughs at how ridiculous all of that logic is, _Buckaroo_ found its place in Jon's heart.

"I have good news and bad news for you, love."

Karl, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky. They'd tried a good million pet names-- muffin, pumpkin, honeybunches of oats, babe-- but nothing had fit right. Jon had insisted they keep it simple and just settle on something nice and basic, like _love_ , and Karl had laughed and joked about how Jon's record couldn't have been all that great to begin with, if he alternated between calling Lea _mom_ and _baby_. Jon had, of course, tried to tell him that there was more to it than just that, that he just didn't get it, and when he really didn't, finally decided to stop trying. Because really, what was the point in trying to justify their relationship to him in the first place? It was secret. Special. He _can't_ get it. 

"Good news first."

"You're going to be a dad." It's hard for him to even say, and he has to force the grin back in place to keep sounding as cheerful as he ought to feel about it.

"I knew it! I knew you'd change your mind! God, I can't wait to see you."

If it weren't for Lea, he wouldn't have, though, and Jon has to force himself to take a deep, steadying breath as he comes to a stop in front of her condo building, lingering right outside for longer than necessary, not wanting to spoil _her_ good mood by having Karl on the phone.

"I can't either, love. Listen, I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Have a good rest of the night."

He spends about five minutes pacing back and forth on the street in front of her building before working up the nerves to go up there and see the future mother of his child. He still can't feel his feet, still can't believe they're really doing this.

The excitement was missing, he realizes as he's taking the stairs instead of the elevator quite deliberately, two steps at a time. Karl was excited, but not nearly as excited as Lea. Lea had sounded-- and certainly made him _feel_ as though-- they might burst of the feeling at any second. Everything he did, suddenly it felt worth it. Like life was _really worth it_ , every second in which he wasn't smiling, a wasted one. 

The door opens before he can so much as knock, and Lea flies into his arms.

He just holds her for a moment, spinning her once as the immediate scent of peaches assaults his senses, and he inhales deeply. 

It's okay to be like this with Lea now, to give her his everything, because sooner rather than later (three days, his mental clock reminds him, and it makes his heart ache, panic-stricken as time seems to squeeze more tightly around it), he'll be going back to be with Karl, full-time, only the occasional trip or phone call to connect him to who he's fairly certain would be his soulmate if she weren't a girl. 

His reasoning is sound, he's sure of it, so he'll make the most out of the little time they have together. Lea slowly returns to the ground as she pulls back to beam up at him, her eyes damp as the tears pool slowly before running down her cheeks, offering a soft laugh.

It's easily the millionth time he's fallen in love with her over his short lifespan so far, even if he doesn't know it.

"You know, when you started the show, it was such an _a-ha_ moment for me," she whispers, suddenly struggling to keep the tears at bay. "And within a week of playing opposite you, it was like suddenly everything made sense. Like all the pieces were finally coming together in just the right way, and I was easily the luckiest girl in the world. It's like that. That's what this feels like, doing this with you. It's like I'm _supposed_ to be doing this, as if there isn't anything else in the world that could possibly be better, and I just have to wonder how I could have ever been as happy without you by my side, and what I _wouldn't_ do to make sure that we'll always be as close as we are right now."

She's trying hard not to cry now, and Jon feels his heart climb into his throat, lodging itself there with every intent to stay as he pulls forward to wrap his arms around her again, cocooning her with his body as though he could always keep her safe if only he tried hard enough. 

"I keep trying to think about how you'll leave again so soon, and how we need to make this count, but all I can think now is that, if everything goes as it should, by the time you'll leave, you'll be leaving a part of you with me."

She's mumbling into his shirt, nearly incoherent, and he couldn't be more grateful for her babbling as he presses her closer to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut with tears he's convincing himself aren't actually coming, _can't_ be. 

"Lea," he breathes softly, his hand running through her hair softly, not sure if he's doing it to calm her tears, or to calm him. 

Finally, he nudges the door open with his foot, taking her by the hand to lead her back inside her condo when he can bring himself to pull away from her again. Sure to lock the door behind them before pressing her up against it, he runs his hands down her sides until they come to settle at her hips, his eyes still roaming over her body as his forehead moves to rest against hers again, a long exhale leaving him slowly.

"I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes," she confesses, nodding feverishly against him as he holds her. Her mascara is running and smudged from her tears, but he couldn't care less right now, slow, careful fingers reaching up to fix it for her, again.

"I thought we were going to make dinner before we did anything stupid," he smiles, picking her up into his arms again as her legs instinctively wrap about his waist, like they were always meant to be there.

"Since when have we ever been reasonable?" she laughs through a haze of tears he knows are happy, the way she's beaming at him making it self-evident. It reminds him of their last joint fourth of July, Lea curled up on his lap as they stared up from their vantage point on the roof, Jon having broken out a lounge chair for them to call home for the night, their eyes bound heavenward. The way she'd beamed up at the sky, the way her tears lit up in blues and purples and yellows and reds-- he would have done anything to keep her beaming at him like that for the rest of their lives.

When he sets her down on the counter, his own body nestled perfectly between her legs, the kiss comes naturally, as if _belonging_ into the space between their bodies. Not a doubt in his mind, Jon tilts his face against hers, a questing hand coming up to tangle in her hair, a soft, desperate noise escaping from his throat as he held her close.

"We're really doing this," he whispers hotly when he pulls away again, more to reassure himself than her.

"I was thinking, tomorrow we could go to the beach, maybe," she whispers back with a nod, her voice cracking again. "We could-- we could go to the beach after sleeping in as long as we want, and then go spend the day there. And then come back here for dinner and then go out again--"

"--at midnight," he finished breathlessly. "To go see the stars we can't ever see in our favorite cities. Yes. We'll walk around for at least an hour just because."

His heart is physically _aching_ in his chest, as though it might burst any second and take Lea with it. No one has ever made him feel _so much_. The damn woman is a miracle. 

"I'm taking you to bed," he whispers then, picking her up once more, this time carrying her all the way into her bedroom until he can set her down properly, his own body following to move on top of hers. 

She's a miracle. He's not sure why he's never noticed as intimately before as he's noticing just now, but she is. It's as though every last part of her can sing, and _does_ , all the time, making him feel alive, high on her, making him dizzy.

He has to keep reminding himself that this is only an _attempt_ to get her pregnant, but it feels so much like the real thing that he can't even imagine it not working this time around, if only on faith alone. And with that in mind, to think that they're about to make new life, to bring their bodies together to conceive what would have to easily grow up to be the most amazing little being in this world-- it's almost too much.

"I can't believe this is actually happening," she breathes softly as he leans in closer to her, resting his weight on his arm to her side, the other rubbing absently at her bare arm as he studies her features. Her face, her nose, her eyes, her hair-- he could get lost in her eyes, and he stops himself on the way, his gaze trailing down to her lips to linger briefly. She's tugging up her dress, mindlessly discarding it somewhere to the left of her bed, and he can't help but stare.

"We don't... have to do this if you don't want to."

"Are you out of your mind? You can't possibly say something like that and then expect me to not think you're absolutely ridiculous," she smiles, all soft angles and beautiful everything. 

"Fine." He throws her one last grin before ducking his head to nudge his nose against the soft skin of her chest, bringing his lips down to kiss her here, there, a soft trail tracing its path down to the dip of her navel, bringing his tongue out to suck at the soft, perfect skin.

"Don't stop," she mutters, grabbing hold of a fistful of his hair to urge him lower, earning her a soft chuckle against her skin.

"I'm not planning on stopping until every last inch of you has been covered," he breathes against her skin, another slow kiss at the apex of her hipbone following to prove it. 

It's a ridiculous idea, of course, but he wants to lap at, lick, kiss every one of her tattoos. There are enough of them that he's sure she'll be begging for him by the time he's done, but he needs her, needs all of her. 

He's been planning it ever since the previous night, this ridiculous little notion lodging itself in his brain as his eyes raked over her bare body to settle on all of the little inked spots. Her chest heaves softly, and he has to physically restrain himself as he watches her from just taking her, all of her, right that second.

"Keep going," she whines, letting her head fall back against her pillow, a soft mewling sound escaping her throat, making him stiffen.

"Be patient." It's all he has for now as he kisses a soft trail down the inside of her leg, only stopping at her foot when he reaches the perfect little butterfly over her toes, first lapping at it gently, then kissing the soft skin as he trails his way back up to the inscribed words with her moan, _our city, our love_. 

He knows what that means, of course-- he's known since the day she went out and got it. It's about them, about New York, the way they've felt about each other since the first day they met, Jon knowing instantly that he was going to adore her the second he met her. 

"Keep going?" he mutters, and she just whimpers, nodding as he works his way back up to the apex of her body, working to slip her panties down her legs, letting them go without so much as thinking twice of it. 

Still, he doesn't lick at her, doesn't touch, doesn't kiss, moving down her other leg now until he finds the _imagine_ inscribed at the inside of her foot, worshiping her as his tongue dares to explore her completely.

It reminds him of the night the show closed after two years of working side by side with her, the same desperate _need_ to be with her resurfacing in his chest as he works his way back up her legs, stopping only briefly at her thigh for the memoir of her grandfather, impatient. As he finally slips up to move on to her hip, he blatantly ignores her center, earning him a pointed whimper from her.

The bird at her hip has always been one of his favorites, lavishing the soft, sweet dip of her body with special reverence as he kisses the still-lingering, dipped lines of her panties, the way they've dug into her skin just barely. 

She's perfect.

"Roll over," he breathes, soft, shallow breath escaping her as he licks his lips, Lea's body all curves and perfection, his mouth on her once more before he can stop himself-- first, the butterfly on her lower back that looks just like the one in Eugene O'Neill theatre, another tribute to _them_ , then up, up, to the musical notes she's dedicated to Freddie Mercury, kissing, biting, licking, and further on up to the crook of her neck, to the overtly sensitive skin at the back of her neck to claim it as his own, briefly taking the time to bite at the gold star up there. 

When she returns to her back, he knows he's saved the best for last. Moving down her arm, he doesn't stop his trail of kisses until he reaches her wrist, paying a particular amount of attention to the _I Believe_ inscribed there, as if to remind her how all of this had gotten started to begin with-- and back up, down her side, to the side of her ribcage to the soft, small cross lingering there, for her mom, kissing it softly, and finally finishing just under her breast, at the small _J &L_ inscription, sure he's leaving a hickey he means not to mean to, but self-control is a fruitless endeavor.

She's mewling for him, her insistent hand back in his hair once more to shove him down her body, his tongue finally finding her center to lap at her, licking a long stripe up her as his arms hold her legs down for all her bucking.

It's the _noises_ that do him in, her whimpers and moans-- the shallow panting that makes him want to capture her lips in a harried frenzy.

Lea doesn't let him, shoving his face into her dark curls as he laps at her like a dying, desperate man.

"Daddy-- oh my god, daddy--"

"Shhh," he mutters hotly, sucking at her clit as his hands spread her open to him, her hips bucking wildly.

"Daddy, please-- please, fuck me with your-- your fingers," she moans, and he knows it's not a request, it's a demand, one arm letting her go as he folds until two fingers press against her entrance, slipping inside of her in one go, curling as soon as they slide home.

"You're so wet, Lea."

"Just for you, daddy," she breathes, though the coherency doesn't last long as her body bucks up against his hand, finger fucking her rapidly as he sucks at her clit, occasionally pausing to lap at her. 

All he can hear are her moans, the soft, panted breaths, the way she screams for him. 

"Oh my god, daddy-- say my name, please--"

"Lea," he groans against her folds, eyes slipping closed, and then again, "Lea, Lea, _Lea_."

"Yes, daddy!" she cries as she comes against him, Jon slowly stilling the way he's finger-fucking her, only slowing his motions gradually as she comes down from her high. 

"Serious, now," he whispers after licking his lips, coming up to whisper against her neck, his clothes coming off as quickly as he can manage. "Can you do that for me, baby? Forget about us and remember why we're doing this?"

"I could never forget about you and me," she returns hopelessly, tugging at the front of his shirt as tears pool in her eyes again, Jon lining himself up at her entrance as his hands reach out to stroke at the sides of her face. 

"I know." He's not sure what his eyes are searching for when they flitter back and forth in hers, some recognition that she understands, really _understands_ that this is really more than just sex. 

"I know why we're doing this. Because I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather do this with. Because there isn't anything a single future I can imagine that doesn't have us in it, daddy. Because I need to know that you'll be by my side, always."

Pressing his forehead against hers, he nods, fully pushing inside of her then.

"No condom," he whispers, and she chokes out a soft sob before he can kiss it away, his thumb running over her cheek to rid her of her tears as her legs wrap about his waist.

"You're everything," she breathes, and he can just nod, moving, then, knowing, _knowing_ that something small and perfect, something part him and part her, might very well happen tonight.

It takes his breath away, tucking his face closely into the crook of her neck as his hips shift against her just right until he can hear the soft sighs of completeness fall from her lips.

"Lea," he whispers again, and she whimpers through what he knows is a fresh haze of tears as her body shifts against his almost desperately, eager to meet his thrusts. 

When he comes, they're both half-crying, Jon tearing up as he watches Lea's tears trail down her cheeks, the image permanently trapped in his mind, holding her close.

They don't talk for a good fifteen minutes after, both of them on their sides, Jon still inside of her. He doesn't bother whispering to her until he's sure she's falling asleep, leaning in to kiss her softly enough not to shock, yet hard enough to still wake her, small smile playing at his lips. 

"Sleeping beauty," he mutters as he smiles at her, his hand still trailing in her hair, stroking her cheek, holding her close to him, as though she might dissolve into nothing if only he doesn't watch her closely enough. 

"Do you love Karl?" she asks suddenly, blinking over at him as her own hand slips forward to gently play at his front, licking her lips. She looks as though she's forgotten something, and Jon can't help the feeling of wanting to do everything to get it back for her, even if it means sacrificing everything. 

Finally, he answers. "Yes."

"But you love me more. Right?"

There's a moment's hesitation before he answers. "Yes."

Does it count as lying to Karl? Probably. But they've already broken all the unspoken rules the world has tried to impose on them-- the ones for best friends, being gay, being loyal and honest.

It's Lea. He's not sure he cares.

&

It's from that point forward that things are no longer soft, sweet, gentle. He cries out when he comes in her, her name falling from his lips as though he's praying when he thrusts. For whatever bizarre reason, she loves it, loves hearing him moan her name, and sometimes when he utters it over and over, it makes her come.

They don't even think about what they're doing anymore in the face of wanting-- _needing_ to make the rest of his time with her worth it, no thoughts spared for the mistakes they're making, and the hearts they could break if only they were to care enough to let anyone else in on their secret.

At one point as he's thrusting into her, she begs him to fuck her the way he fucks Karl, the way he fucks his boyfriends, and he can only laugh, leaning into her ear to whisper to her that there isn't anyone he fucks the way he fucks her, that there won't ever be.

It sends her over the edge, and he's sure when he comes inside her again that she's pregnant, that she _has to be_.

"That's what you get for cooking shirtless," she jokes the day before he's set to head back to New York, still grinning stupidly as she leans up to kiss him on the cheek, her thumb absently rubbing at the spot where the hot, angry oil attacked his chest. It's not like she has any time to talk

The flood will come tomorrow; he knows to expect it, but for now, he's making them corn-fritters to take along to the beach, Lea insisting they have a makeshift picnic on the warm evening sand. The beach has been a reprieve from reality the last couple of days, easily one of Jon's favorite things about LA. The temperate, always lovely weather, the way the sand feels squished between his toes, the way he can race Lea out into the waves and spin her weightless form until she feels dizzy from it, the showers they always take together afterwards, and the way Lea always finds leftover sand in the most awkward of places in said showers. 

She's already packed them juice, salad, and individually wrapped watermelon slices for dessert, all in true Lea style, Jon joking that they'll never get through everything as he loads the last of the corn fritters into the Tupperware container she put out for them when his phone buzzes in his swimming trunks. 

If it weren't Karl, he wouldn't have bothered, but it is, and his stomach hurts even as he answers the phone, throwing an apologetic glance at Lea. 

"Hey, you. And here I was worried for a second that you wouldn't answer."

Karl sounds like he's genuinely missing Jon, and it makes him feel like shit. He's been having so much fun with Lea that the nightly conversations with that he tries to work into their schedule almost feel more like _obligations_ than anything else. 

"Of course I was going to pick up for you. What's up?"

"I actually wanted to ask how your doctor's appointment went. Good news?"

Jon hates lying. It makes his stomach hurt to even think about it, and he panics every time he _does_ do it, rarely as it does happen, about keeping all of his facts straight lest he be found out. It's not an issue of Karl making him feel guilty about it. Jon does plenty of that for himself already. He's a terrible boyfriend, lying to him like that. On the other hand, he can't very well confess that he didn't go according to plan, didn't ask permission, and has just been sleeping with his best friend for the past four or so days.

"We, um." He clears his throat, as he always does when he's trying hard to come up with a story that clearly isn't true. "We were kind of worried that the approval process would take too long? Using a pre-selected surrogate?"

He throws Lea a _look_ that couldn't have been any more apologetic if it tried.

"I doubt you'd find a single clinic in LA that would turn down your choice to use Lea as a surrogate for in vitro, Buckaroo. Pretty sure it'd be faster than picking one out of a line-up that would be willing to give up her body for nine months."

"Well, right, but in the end, um-- we just thought it might be cheaper to just use the old turkey baster method. Less of a chance of twins, too-- I have no idea what would happen to either of our careers if we had _two_ babies on our hands, love." 

At this point, the pet name works more for reassurance than anything else. He knows, fully well, that if he overdoes it, that he'll become obvious and give himself away from trying too hard, but he can't help it, running a harried hand through his hair, leaning his weight onto his elbows on Lea's kitchen counter.

"How awkward was that?"

"It wasn't, actually. She just propped her hips up with pillows to ensure fertilization." It just happened to _also_ be quite effective for deeper penetration. "We-- I mean, _she_ did it a couple of times-- well, obviously I helped, otherwise there wouldn't have been a p-- anyway, so I think we might be hearing good news soon."

"Are you that freaked out about it?" Karl laughs, just as light-heartedly as before, mistaking his slip-ups for anxiety.

If anything, it makes him feel worse, knowing that Karl isn't picking up on any of the stumbling, the lying, the deceit. That they could keep doing this, over and over, and he'd never be the wiser. That kind of blind trust is dangerous, and he can't help but feel awful.

"I don't know," he admits, honest for once. Of course this scares him, the prospect of becoming a father. But what terrifies him more than anything-- more than he can care to admit-- is not having Lea by his side for any of it. Seeing her face when she sees her son or daughter for the first time. Being able to share that feeling-- that _thrill_ with her-- he can't. Not when it isn't her baby in all of this, not _really_. 

"Hey, I get it. This is a big deal. But you know I love you, right? We'll make this work. And you will make the _most amazing_ dad."

"Right," he sighs softly, his voice coming out much rougher than he intends at first.

"I can't wait to see you tomorrow, Buckaroo. We'll celebrate, just the two of us. I'll even cook."

That earns him a laugh, and Jon stands, absently pacing around the kitchen as Lea finalizes their picnic basket, throwing him the occasional look that, if he'd tried harder, he could have deciphered as resigned jealousy. Acceptance.

"That sounds great."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." When he finally hangs up-- he always hangs up first, not sure why-- his hips sink back against the counter, feeling more tired than he's felt in days, brow furrowing as he lets his eyes slip closed.

Lea wraps her arms around him before he can get his bearings back, face burrowing into his front as his own arms move to encircle her, just breathing her in. Peaches.

"Ready to go to the beach?" she whispers into his shirt, and he nods into her hair, though neither of them can find it in themselves to move.

&

Two hours later, almost all the food is gone already, left only with their watermelon slices, intentionally cut too largely to ensure that they'd both be left just as sticky and sweet with the juice as the other. Watching the sun set up against the Pacific on the horizon, the colors make the sand look pink and light up Lea's face beautifully.

If he didn't know better, he'd sheepishly admit to her glowing already. 

The ridiculous, checkered blanket she's brought for their picnic is just big enough for the two of them to curl up on, Lea in one of those ridiculously tiny bikinis she loves so much, leaning against his shoulder as though she belongs there.

"Still sticky?" he grins, resisting the urge to run _his_ sticky sweet fingers through her hair.

"Is it that obvious?" she laughs, her whole body seeming to laugh with her. God, he'll miss her. 

"Want to go home and have a shower together?"

There's a twinkle there in her eyes, just briefly, and then she shifts, grinning, mischievous. "Maybe after I race you into the water!"

He catches her, of course, twirling her when she's back in his arms where she belongs, carrying her, bridal style, back onto the safe confines of the beach as she laughs, arms around his neck. He's not even sure if he's disappointed that they're no longer sticky, if he hadn't much rather licked the sweet juice off of her body. 

"You're ridiculous," he whispers down at the perfect person in his arms, and she beams at him, wide enough to make him think that she's not actually thinking about his departure tomorrow morning the way he is, almost obsessively. 

It doesn't take much for them sneak into one of the privacy tents still up, both of them giggling. Typically there's a twenty dollar rental fee for the day, but they really only need it for fifteen or so minutes or so, Lea promptly straddling him as soon as he sits, slipping down his swimming trunks until they pool at his feet.

"We can't keep doing this," he breathes softly, even as it turns into a groan halfway as she slides home on top of him, _up, down, up, down._

"Of course we can, daddy," she grins, flushing in the face of their actions and the rhythmic movements atop him. "No one has to know, right? This is just you and me, and no one can touch that."

"Lea," he gasps, forcing his thoughts away from tomorrow and to the girl right here, right now, bouncing on top of him, head thrown back, neck flushing beautifully. 

His hands settle at her waist as he thrusts up from the small bench, and when she comes on his cock, he can't help following suit.

He misses her already.

&

There's a moment right after tearing up that the world seems to go just out of focus, and then comes back with a blink, before promptly going swimmy again.

Lea fears that she'll never get her focus back as she watches Jon's plane take off on the horizon through the airport windows of LAX.

The first thing she does upon going home-- besides cry, besides take a long, therapeutic nap-- is get into her small jewelry chest, and take out the ridiculous engagement ring he gave her one night at dinner with her parents. It hadn't fit just right that night, one size too small-- not that she'd cared much-- and he'd told her not to worry about it, but she'd gotten it resized for propriety's sake promptly the next day.

It feels too right on her finger as she stares at it, missing him more than she can say.

&

  


&

When he does get back home to New York, it's pouring rain, matching bit-for-bit how he's feeling about the city at the moment, typically a place of peace and love and magic for him. But today, on this particularly rainy Sunday afternoon, something is missing.

"You look like you've been through hell and back, Buckaroo," Karl mutters, small, pitying smile on his face as he wraps an arm around his shoulders as he finally sets one of his bags down in their apartment. "Are you coming down with something?"

"I'm just tired. The time change always gets to me a little, and we got up pretty early to catch my flight." It's a blatant lie, of course, and his stomach promptly punishes him for it.

"Well then, I'll tell you what. Get in the bedroom, take off your clothes, and lie on your front. I'll be in in five minutes tops with a surprise and some massage oil. We can worry about dinner later."

The surprise turns out to be a bottle of champagne, and he realizes after a couple of glasses, that it's just what he needs to take the edge of the guilt-- guilt for technically cheating, guilt for technically abandoning Lea. 

Karl's hands have always been far too good at what they do, whether it's wield a spatula, loosen up the muscles in his back, or get him to come. But when he does, all he can think of is Lea. 

He tells himself that this, too, will pass, at least after a couple of days of not being around her 24/7, but it doesn't, and by the time it's two weeks later with nothing changed, he knows it won't.


	3. Chapter 3

"I was thinking we could make dinner and then maybe settle down and watch a movie? I got the BBC version of _Casanova_ on Netflix the other day, if you wanted," she mutters, looking through her movie shelf. "I've heard some pretty good things about it."

"Sure thing, babe." 

Stephen is, and will likely always be, an agreeable sort of person. It's not actually about getting what he wants-- Jon's theory-- and maybe it's not even about not really listening-- her mother's theory-- but more often than not, she picks what they're going to be doing.

And it isn't that Jon isn't _agreeable_ when it comes to her suggestions for places to go eat, movies to watch, music to listen to and sing along with-- it's just that they tend to agree in the first place, and take turns making the decisions. 

But she knows that Stephen, on his part, his own movie collection littered with blockbuster names like _Die Hard_ and _Die Hard 2_ , would much rather watch an action movie than the Tony Awards even on the best of days, not that he would ever tell her that when she goes on to suggest that they should perhaps watch the most recent rendition of _Rent_.

"I was talking to Jon the other night," she continues as she takes a frozen pizza out of the freezer, unwrapping it from its plastic cover. "He and Karl want a baby." The last part is almost whispered, her throat feeling tight. She has to keep reminding herself to whom the life that's potentially growing in her belly belongs, since it really isn't her. Even if it's part of her, and part of _Jon_ , and she can't think of anything that she could possibly love more, it isn't hers to keep. It might be hers to visit, hers to love when time and circumstance allows, but otherwise, there will always be a limit to the feeling of completion and family and being loved completely, unequivocally, without a single doubt.

Exactly like it is with Jon.

"It's going to be kind of hard for them, reproductive parts and all," he mutters with a smarmy, crooked grin as his arm wraps about her waist. 

Stephen doesn't like Jon, and the feeling is mutual. It's a territorial sort of problem, and the fact that Jon refuses to call him anything but _Steve_. 

"They asked me to be the surrogate."

"And you said no."

Pizza in the oven-- Stephen isn't big on _cooking together_ \-- she hops onto the counter. "I said yes."

"Figures." He sighs, systematically cracking one knuckle after the other, first on the left hand, then the right. It drives her insane.

She's downright grateful for the interruption that her phone causes, buzzing in her back pocket. 

_Never thought I'd say this, but I miss LA._

"Who is it?"

"It's my mom," she lies quickly, trying hard to hide the smile on her face as she types back, _No, you miss ME._

"Liar." It rolls too easily off his tongue, as though he were talking about the toast he might have eaten this morning, as if he really doesn't care that she's lying. She's not sure what bothers her more-- the fact that he knows, or the fact that he couldn't give less of a rat's ass about it. "You never look like that when you're texting your mom."

He gets out a bottle of wine for the two of them, presumably to go with the pizza, and pours them both a glass, Lea accepting somewhat reluctantly, as if she doesn't deserve such a romantic gesture, even despite knowing that she won't be drinking, trying to get pregnant and all. It's from a wine tasting he took her to for their birthday, which doesn't really help matters at all, even if it isn't her favorite, a bottle that was easily double the price of the one they're drinking now. Her phone buzzes again, immediately demanding her attention, serving as a brilliant reminder as to why she doesn't deserve the wine in her hand or the boyfriend in her kitchen. 

_You're right. I do._

Her face falls; can't help but, and he offers another sigh after a long sip.

"You slept with him."

"What?"

She stares up at him in shock, eyes wide fighting to keep the glass in her hand as trembling hands work slowly return it to the counter. She's already given herself away, and she knows it, waiting for his reaction with baited breath. 

"You heard me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

Spread-eagled on her bed as Jon mercilessly pounds into her, a slew of lewd litanies tumbling from his lips as though worshiping her body as his hands palm at one breast. 

"I think you do." 

On the counter, her knuckles turning white as they grip desperately onto the edge of the tile, the edge digging into her ass as pliant fingers grip her hips for leverage, groans that sound suspiciously like her name following every thrust into her.

"This is none of your business," she snaps hotly, face flushing warm as she jumps off of the counter, arms folding defensively in front of her chest to match him.

"I'm right, aren't I? You're damn sure that it's my business who you're sleeping with! Last time I checked, we were in a _relationship_."

"It's _Jonathan_!" Because, really, that excuses it. If it were anyone else, she would understand him, but it's _Jon_. 

"That doesn't excuse _anything_ when you know _as well as I do_ that you moon over him more than _anyone_ else. If he wasn't gay--"

She cuts him off in the middle of his wild gesturing to interrupt. "But he is!"

" _Clearly_ that doesn't keep him from sticking his dick in _my girlfriend_!"

He's never been good at subtlety, but this is particularly scathing, and she has to physically restrain herself from yelling something regrettable, instead focusing on the good things, not yet reduced to calling him names.

"Jon doesn't count! He's-- he's different!"

"Why, because you're in love with him?"

"No!"

It's scathing enough that it catches her attention, and she glares at him as she whirls around, the timer on the pizza going off. Neither of them seem to care.

"You act like you are," he snaps, jaw set as he stares at her accusingly.

"You can _go_."

Maybe she does. That doesn't mean she's in love with him. He's her best friend-- she doesn't even have the _right_ to be in love with him, even if she is.

"Do you want to keep it?" 

It's another accusation-- because Stephen doesn't ask questions, not _really_ , he just assumes he's right-- that comes so out of left field and is so glaringly accurate that she wants to hit him.

"What?"

"His baby," he says quietly, one hand gripping onto the edge of the counter. "You want to keep it, don't you?" 

She wants to tell him that it's her baby, too, that this precious little thing is growing inside of _her_ , and not Karl, but she doesn't, suddenly feeling all the steam leave her at once as he stares at her, one eyebrow raised, hands folded in front of his chest

"I thought I told you to _leave_!" 

"So it's true, then. You want the two of you to raise that kid with your faggy boyfriend--"

Her hand shoots out to hit before she can stop herself, one of her vases promptly falling off the counter and shattering into pieces as it hits the floor, the flowers Stephen got her last week suddenly everywhere. 

Stephen catches her by the wrist before she can make impact, his face hard. 

"Easy there, Lea."

"You have _no right_ to call him that." Her voice is trembling, and she's not sure if it's because her whole body is, or if she's too angry, too upset to verbalize anything properly, hot, livid tears streaming down her cheeks as she glares at him.

"Fine," he grinds out as she wretches her wrist out of his grip, promptly making a beeline for the door, slamming it as he storms out. 

The only problem with all of this is that she hardly knows what to do with herself without Jon. Normal circumstances would have her calling him instantly, but this isn't something she can talk to him about, isn't something that she should talk to him about, tears spilling out onto the counter before she can stop herself.

&

It's a solid two weeks until she hears the message on her answering machine, telling her that he has reservations for the two of them for that night at _Cicada_. She has half the mind to tell him to shove his reservation elsewhere, but by eight p.m., she's already on her way.

"A cosmopolitan for the lady, and a scotch on the rocks for myself, thanks."

Stephen has always had the bad habit of ordering for her, occasionally forgetting that she doesn't eat cheese-- _anymore_ \-- but this is especially irritating. 

He's here to apologize-- or at least, so she _assumes_ \-- and already of that he's doing a poor job. 

"I'm not going to be able to drink that, you know."

"Are you pregnant yet?"

He sounds as bitter and scathing about it as ever, and she's tempted to just leave and give up on this, give up on _them_. But one thought back to Jon, who has Karl, with whom he's _happy_ , and suddenly, she's not so sure if she just wants to give up. 

"I don't know. I might be."

"Then just take your chances." Stephen is certainly taking _his_. "It's not like it can hurt all that horribly in the beginning, right? Think about all the chicks that find out in the third month or so. Their babies don't come out deformed just because they didn't expect it."

The waitress' arrival with their drinks is suddenly very much a _deus ex machina_ sort of entrance. Without her, Stephen could have never dug himself out of his proverbial grave, and suddenly, the tension in the air lifts somewhat as Lea glances over the menu.

"Did you think about what you might want to order?"

"I think I'll have the Grilled Dover Sole," she mutters before he can speak for her, and promptly noting the way Stephen's lips purse at her words, knowing fully how expensive the dish she's chosen is, and not particularly caring for once. 

She knows this relationship isn't going the distance. She just didn't expect it to be over so soon.

He orders something half the price, also a familiar tactic, and Lea wonders why she bothers anymore when she'd rather be sitting here with Jon, when she'd rather be sitting _anywhere_ else with Jon. 

There's a lovely, vegan-friendly café just outside of Santa Monica where he's taken her before, the vegan muffins to die for and only $1.50 instead of the $40 entrees at _Cicada_. But Stephen has never been that kind of guy, just as much as he's not the kind of guy to wear baseball caps the wrong way, making Lea's stomach clench painfully as she tries to think about anything other than the drink in front of her, and the baby that's probably in her stomach by now, if her instincts are pointing her correctly.

On the other hand, she's completely terrified that she's wrong, as much heartache as this baby is going to cause her.

An hour later, she accepts Stephen's half-hearted apology, and they have sex, though it's perhaps even more half-hearted than his apology. Still, she can't bring herself to care-- not over the fact that he didn't bother to go down on her, or that she only came once, and only when thinking about Jon, her hand furiously working herself to a peak as he thrust mindlessly in and out of her. 

After he leaves again, Lea feels like she's cheated on Jonathan. It's ridiculous, of course, but she can't help it, can't stop the pang in her chest at the thought of how much he's missing her, and how she's failed him.

&

"Jon and I are trying to get pregnant."

"You're--" There's dead silence on the other end of the phone as Lea hears her dad's voice cutting in. "Tell him I'm buying him that house I promised!"

"Honey, that's-- Lea, you're on speaker," her mother shamefully admits, and Lea has to fight the urge to bury her face in her hand. 

"Mom-- _dad_ \-- it's not like that, I'm just the surrogate."

The nigh-jubilant silence from before is suddenly replaced with one far more tense and forced, and Lea has to fight back the urge to cry as she realizes how much she wishes it were the former, that maybe, just maybe, this was just about them and this baby they were having.

"Oh," her mother's voice finally comes through, a door closing in the background just before she's taken off speaker. "Well-- are you? Pregnant, I mean."

"I don't know. I mean, I haven't tried a pregnancy test or gone to the doctor yet, because I'm kind of worried it'll be negative, but I did throw up this morning. Then again, that could just be nerves or the fact that I'm making myself sick over this whole mess, but--"

She starts crying before she can stop herself, a choked sob following shortly after now that she knows it's only her mother listening, and that her dad won't go to catch the subway down to Manhattan to commit murder. 

"Oh, _honey_."

"I know it's my own fault for saying yes and getting so attached, but I just don't know what to do."

"Well, I'll tell you what you're going to do. You're going to come visit us for a couple of days, and everything will be all better. We'll make kugel together, I know it's your favorite--"

"I'll think about it," she nods against the phone, her heart clenching at the thought of even going home to New York and not seeing Jon.

"Well, let me know what you decide, and we'll see if maybe your dad can't take a couple of days off of work, too."

"Thanks, mama."

"Oh, and do let us know if there is a baby, so I can start shopping for the little thing, okay?"

"Of course I will, mama," she mutters softly as tears well up again in spite of her best efforts for them not to. This is exactly what she's been hoping to avoid-- thoughts of Jon painting the baby's room a gender-neutral color, picking out a crib together, buying too many baby clothes-- these are all things that she isn't allowed to do, isn't supposed to be doing, because it's not her baby, if there even is a baby.

For the past week, she's had two pregnancy tests in her medicine cabinet-- both different brands, just in case one of them messes up. It's not that she hasn't skipped a period-- she _has_ \-- but the chances of something going wrong are always, always there, that maybe she's just really late, or that the stress of the past couple of weeks has caused her to skip it. Maybe it's a hysterical pregnancy, and she's not pregnant at all, and when the timer finally goes off, she's terrified to even look at the test in the first place, her stomach in her throat.

&

For a good three rings, he struggles to get his phone out of his pocket, beaming when he finally sees Lea's name lighting up his phone and promptly sliding the bar to the right to unlock the screen, still grinning.

"How's my favorite Broadway starlet doing? I was just thinking about you, baby."

For a second, all he can hear is breathing, and then, barely loud enough for him to hear-- "Jon, I'm pregnant."

His whole world slows to a stop. For just a second, nothing and no one exists besides the two of them, and he hears himself-- as though out of, separated from his body-- let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, his eyes wide.

She might as well have told him that they're both pregnant, that their baby-- _their baby_ \-- who is now suddenly a real, living entity, an actual _being_ , is going to be healthy, happy, and all theirs to keep.

With that thought, reality filters back in, and he realizes that that's not it, that she's telling him this, not because they're going to be parents, but because he needs to tell Karl. _Karl_ , who's going to be a father with him. Sweet, wonderful, amazing, what-did-I-ever-do-to-deserve-him Karl. 

"Lea," he breathes out in one long go, his eyes closing as he pictures her sitting on the edge of the toilet, clutching a pregnancy test in one hand, her cell phone in the other.

"It's-- this is a good thing, right?" 

He can _hear_ her tear up, and almost instantly, he can't think about Karl anymore, Lea taking center stage in his universe as he gets up off the couch and starts pacing, running an errant hand through his hair.

"Of course it is. Why-- why wouldn't it be?" He's almost afraid to ask her, sucking in his bottom lip to chew on it, hoping to cure his trepidation over this whole conversation.

"Because it's yours and _Karl's_."

It's only been six weeks since he was out the last time, but that doesn't stop him from instantly flipping up the screen of his laptop to find tickets to get to LA tomorrow, preferably early.

"I'll be there tomorrow, okay? I'm already getting the tickets. You set your doctor's appointment for in a couple of days and-- and we'll go together. We'll get through this, baby. Just the two of us." 

He can practically hear her nodding against the phone, and he wants nothing more than to bridge the gap between them right now, hold her, never let go, his chest aching horribly. He can't even imagine what this has to feel like for her, but if it's even remotely comparable to his own feelings, then he needs to be there. Not Karl, not _Steve_ , just him. 

It might be a bit underhanded, but he's almost glad that Karl has a big exam coming up tomorrow, big enough that he refused to reschedule it even for an awards show Jon _was_ going to attend. 

Now he's heading to LA instead, his stomach in knots even as he buys the tickets.

&

Jon is convinced that the only redeeming quality behind flying is the actual _arrival_ , knowing he'll see Lea by the time it's over, and that for that alone, he'll endure all the coffee spills from the stewardess, all the bad movies he can't actually hear on the crappy airplane headphones, and all of the annoying passengers beside him.

The woman seated beside him is a good 65 years old and doesn't recognize him in the least, not that he's surprised. Whenever they're out, chances are that Lea is the one getting recognized, not him, even if he's had a stint on _Glee_ , too, he doesn't get nearly as much exposure, and _he_ wasn't seen singing in an HP ad on TV.

Not that he minds, really. It's nice, being able to blend into the background on occasion, even if he's come to really appreciate all the attention. 

"Are you transferring in LA, dear?" the nice, elderly woman-- whose name turns out to be Marla-- asks him as he packs away his headphones, finding them to be a pointless endeavor. He looks up, smiles, and promptly shakes his head. 

It turns out that her grandson has met a girl, and decided, at the ripe age of twenty-nine, to "finally"-- her words, not his-- settle down. The only downside is that her granddaughter-in-law-to-be is Japanese, and her side of the family insisted on a traditional wedding in their home country, despite her growing up in San Francisco almost her whole life. 

It's all a terribly endearing story, of course, thinking that this woman-- and the rest of the family-- is willing to fly out to Japan for the wedding, though it does alert him to both the question of whether this means he's suddenly overdue for marriage as well, and the fact that he really ought to tell his parents that he's having a baby.

He's still grinning when the woman interrupts his thoughts to ask him what his business in LA is, and he laughs. 

"My best friend-- god, she's my everything. Anyway," he clears his throat, still smiling stupidly as he thinks about it, "she's having my baby. And we just found out yesterday, so of course I'm heading out to be there for her."

"It's so sweet when you kids refer to your significant others as your best friend. It's just adorable."

He's about to correct the woman, when he realizes that there's no point, not really. She looks like she's wearing a particularly enthusiastic table-cloth that goes up to her neck; there is no way for her to understand the circumstances, not completely.

With the fasten-seatbelt sign finally off, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and by the time he returns, she's already fast asleep. They did depart from JFK fairly early, Jon requesting another coffee from the stewardess as he forces himself to remember that it isn't Lea with whom he's having this baby, that his partner, his _wonderful_ partner, is waiting for him to come back home with good news, still upset that he isn't able to go along, that Jon blatantly disregarded even the possibility of going tomorrow instead of today.

&

"You're letting me drive," he grins into her hair when she's finally back in his arms, knowing already the second the words leave his mouth, that she'll protest his cruel, misogynistic judgment of her, even if she knows as well as he does that she's a terrible driver.

"What? Where did this come from?"

"The way I figure," he smirks happily as he readjusts the bag on his shoulder with one hand and grabs her hand with the other, trying to make their way out of LAX without tripping over anyone or being attacked by the media as he's used to happening when he's around Lea, "you're not only my family, but now you're also carrying my family inside of you. I gotta protect the two of you, right?"

Loading them into her car, Lea first, bags later, he climbs into the driver's seat, glad to have taken over the drive when the sky opens up shortly after they get onto the highway.

"Did you already set an appointment with your gynecologist?"

"Yes," she mutters quietly, suddenly more preoccupied with the rain outside the window than with him, making him frown as he grabs her hand, slowing down to keep from hydroplaning, just grateful that the traffic isn't as bad as it could be around this time.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"What if I'm not? You know, _pregnant_."

The last bit of the sentence comes out so quietly that he almost doesn't hear her over the sound of the rain drumming against the windshield, and he seriously contemplates pulling over for a moment to talk to her about this seriously, where he can give her his full attention, but they're practically almost at her place anyway.

"Did you skip a period?"

"Well, yes."

"And the pregnancy test said positive, right?"

"They... both did, actually."

"And you said you've been throwing up when we talked about a week ago..."

"But--"

"I know, baby." He can't help the smile that spreads across his face as he squeezes her hand with one hand, bending the other at an awkward angle to speed up the windshield wipers as the rain comes down harder. "It'll be fine."

"Is it bad to already be this attached to something before you even know for sure that it's there?"

He lets the words sink in for a moment, then swallows, shaking his head. "No. Definitely not."

"While I was waiting for the pregnancy test to get done I started looking stuff up, you know. And it turns out that at about six weeks, it should be about the size of a chocolate sprinkle. And then I couldn't stop myself from looking at more information about our-- I mean, um-- _the_ baby."

 _Our_ baby. It is _their_ baby, really, all things considered, even if Karl and him are supposed to raise the little thing. Jon already worries that his heart will break every time he looks at it, seeing Lea written all over that beautiful little face. 

But he's just about as attached to it as Lea is at this point, Karl seemingly much calmer about the whole process. It actually kind of pisses him off, him not freaking out nearly as much as Jon is, and Lea is a welcome refuge for his nerves, just as bad as him. 

He's not sure what to say. He wants to put his hand on her abdomen, wants to tell her that she's going to make the most amazing mommy to the little boy or girl in there, and that she needs to stop worrying.

Except she won't be, and he can't. These are the things he should be telling to Karl, but she's his best friend, _having his baby_. What is he supposed to say? What can anyone possibly say to make this all right?

He realizes that he's been silent for a while when she speaks again, jolting him out of his anxieties. "Stephen wasn't thrilled, you know."

The anger is instantaneous. " _Steve_ can shove a dick up his--"

"He _knows_ we had sex, Jon."

"Is it that obvious?"

 _Of course_ it is. He knows it is, and he's fairly certain that Lea does, too. He's just lucky that Karl likes to see the best in people, painfully naïve and gullible at times if only to keep the positive atmosphere in a room, though sometimes it does make Jon wonder whether it's just to keep things peaceful, or whether he legitimately believes these things, convincing himself that he's right.

"He's just-- he's paranoid, so he guessed correctly. That's _it_." There's a heavy pause that seems to stretch forever as they stand at a red light, the rain still not letting up. "Does Karl know?"

" _Hell_ no."

"Were you planning on telling him?"

"Not... really."

"Oh."

She sounds downright disappointed, and he's not sure why. A part of him gets it, but at the same time, he's not exactly the sort of person who should be touting off _publicly_ that he regularly has sex with his best friend. Not only would it be bad press for Lea, who is generally seen as a relative goody-goody in the media-- doesn't cheat, doesn't do drugs, doesn't show off her vagina to the rest of the world-- but he's out and proud, a veritable beacon of attention for LGBT-centered media coverage and hot button gay rights issues.

It would be a disaster if anyone found out that they're sleeping together _on top of_ how cutesy they tend to be in public, how openly affectionate. The hand-holding, the mock-kisses, the fake engagement ring Lea posted on her twitter (even if the diamond was real, and he felt his heart hammering in his chest even as he was picking it, hoping he wasn't horribly misjudging her taste in jewelry).

Not that he'd ever give those things up with her. But coming out first as gay, and then not only as sleeping with a woman on a regular basis, but also as cheating on his partner because Karl found himself bitter and disillusioned-- even if he could never see Karl doing such a thing to him-- would be devastating.

And what's more, a part of him feels rather as though he's cheating on Lea, too, as silly as it sounds.

"Lea, I can't exactly--"

"I know," she interjects, sounding entirely too reasonable and entirely too much like she's spent the last several nights up and thinking about this for too long. "Stephen and I actually got into a big fight about it," she finally mutters, as eager to change the subject as he is, apparently.

"Did you... break up?" He can't help the slightly hopeful edge that sneaks into his voice, even when he knows that it's not supposed to be there, that he's with Karl and therefore has no right to tell her whom to date. Still, he can't help the way he sighs when she shakes her head.

"He and I made up a while ago. Not that he was very good at apologizing," she laughs, and his stomach responds instantly. He knows what that means. Another freebie for Steve when he doesn't even deserve a single one. 

The laughter, too, gives away a topic change. Lea hates talking about anything too serious that isn't directly related back to their careers, and he offers a resigned sigh as he pulls into her-- thankfully covered-- parking spot, undoing the latch on his seatbelt. 

"You know I don't like the bastard," he tells her seriously, throwing her one last stern look before getting out of the car to get his bags.

"It's not that big a deal, seriously," she shrugs, grabbing one of his bags before he can get to it. "If it was an issue, I'd call the Jon police. But you have nothing to worry about. You're clearly the winner," she grins, reaching a hand out to touch on his cheek, all evidence of her earlier worries suddenly gone. Still, as upset as that makes him on principle, he can't help softening at her touch, knowing that he's finally back here with her again.

"So does that mean that we're still...?" 

" _Fuck_ yes, are you kidding?" 

He can't help the grin that comes over his face as he runs after her, chasing her all the way up to the bed in her condo.

&

It's a relief when she doesn't miss the alcohol hanging out with Jon and her friends at a chic club downtown, a stark contrast to her awkward dinner with Stephen, where she spent the majority of the night staring wistfully at the untouched cosmopolitan.

Here, though, the energy is enough to keep the room alive and moving, the laughter and the dancing fuel for her own slightly inebriated feeling of joy. 

Jon, on the other hand, has had his fair share of drinks by now, and is feeling no shame in proving just how well he can dance in the middle of the floor, Lea doing her best to cheer him on as she claps to the beat.

She doesn't expect it when his hands drag her off of the soft cushion of the seat and onto the floor with him, leading her into an easy dance between the two of them, slipping into a natural rhythm only acquired by years of singing, dancing, and acting beside the other.

Jon's stamina skyrockets when he's drunk-- even just tipsy-- and by the time they've spent an hour in the middle of the dance floor, she's successfully turned in his hands until she's grinding up against him, his hands roaming over her front and continually dipping lower.

There's another guy behind him, grinding up against him and making Lea feel far more jealous than she would if she wasn't sober, but she knows that _he_ isn't the reason for the hardness pressing against her as Jon's hands slowly move past her hips and down on her body, making her question her choice of dress the closer he gets to slipping beneath the hem to press a daring finger up against her soaked panties, rubbing at her through the fabric.

She stops him just in time, moving his hand higher once more until he finally gets impatient, and drags her back to their now-abandoned booth, empty glasses still littering the table.

The booth winds around the table in a comfortable half-circle, perfectly intimate for a small group of people, and even more so, when there's only two of them. Slipping into the middle with her, Jon wastes no time to lave attention on her neck, kissing, sucking, nipping there, anxious fingers eager to get under the fabric of her dress and inside of her. 

His arrival earlier that day had him tackling her to her bed and tickling her mercilessly, but nothing else. Now, he's doing everything in his power to make up for it, leaving her with what will likely be an embarrassing hickey to explain to Stephen by the time he's done with it as his fingers ghost over the soft skin of her thigh under the table.

She can't help the soft moan that slips past her lips, grateful suddenly for the loud music drowning out the cacophonous incoherencies.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispers straight into her ear, and she groans again as her head falls back, feeling his hand eagerly part her legs under the table to pull aside the fabric of her panties, his thumb drawing lazy circles around her entrance, just enough to tease her and spread her legs a little further of her own volition.

"Shhh, not too far," he whispers again, and she has to fight to keep her hips where they're supposed to be, on the seat, not wantonly pressing up against his hand in an effort to helplessly beg for more. 

Her hand aches just gripping onto the edge of the seat, and finally she relents, slipping it over to where it doesn't belong until she's touching him through his jeans, eliciting a rough, slow moan from him as he nibbles at her earlobe, laughing softly against the skin. "Don't, baby, or we're going to get ourselves arrested."

He's grinning, though-- she can feel it-- and she keeps going just until he finally gives in and shoves a finger inside of her, rough and unforgiving. _In, out, in, out_ until she's practically keening with the movements, everything coming out in short breaths and pants.

It's too tempting just to come all over his fingers-- two of them rhythmically pumping in and out of her now, his thumb concentrating all its attention on her clit as she moans-- but he'll still be hard, and she'll still want _him_ , all of him, even if it does happen.

"Daddy, please," she begs him once, twice, before he finally nods, Lea slipping out of the booth before him, grateful that they didn't open a tab. 

Her car is only parked about a block away, and she couldn't be more grateful, hurrying down the street in her heels alongside him, both of them tumbling unceremoniously into the backseat as soon as she gets the door unlocked. 

He has her on her back within seconds, the door shut behind him as he immediately moves to bury his face in her pussy, lapping at her like a dying man, his fingers already back inside her and making her scream as she grips onto the leather backseat.

"Jon--"

"I've got you, baby. Gonna take you _so high_ ," he mutters hotly against her folds, and her orgasm washes over her before she can stop herself, still unable to believe that they're actually doing this in the backseat of her car as Jon's fingers finally slow down as her body follows suit, watching him climb up and over her.

Her hands scramble for his fly before her brain can really adjust to what she's doing, tearing down his jeans to his knees, Jon making quick work of her panties in the same breath.

They cry out in unison as he pushes inside of her in one fluid motion, gripping onto her hips as he thrusts within the confines of the tight space of the car. The groan that leaves him is nigh-indecipherable, and Lea's heels dig into his ass to get him closer to her as she pants for more of him, needing him deeper, harder, faster, _now_.

It's only been a couple of weeks, but already they can't keep their hands off of each other, scrambling for more bodily contact, faster.

She's not even drunk, and she still can't think of anything that would make this any better, Jon incoherent as he buries his face against the skin of her neck, making her shudder and clench around him. 

When he comes before she does, his thumb takes care of her better than she ever could have, getting her off around his cock for the second time just five minutes after his own orgasm. 

The clean-up following isn't nearly as easy, but they do their best, Jon sufficiently sobered up by then to avoid anything entirely too messy. Her panties long forgotten in the backseat, Lea doesn't stall once as she climbs into the driver's seat, knowing full well that she going to hold designated driver position for the next eight months. 

It's the cuddling that follows later on that night in her bed as she's falling asleep that reminds her-- _this_ is what makes them so great. Not the sex, not the fact that she's having his baby, but the fact that their friendship is unbreakable, that they're this close without even having to so much as think about it. No one even compares to the man cuddled up behind her, his arms tightly wrapped around her midriff.

"Jon?" she mutters quietly, her own voice sounding foreign even to her own ears when she finally does speak again, turning just slightly to face him in his arms.

"Mm?"

"Have you told your parents?"

The realization that this isn't just any conversation seems to hit him instantly, and he frowns into the darkness as he sits up slightly, her bed sheet pooling at his waist and leaving his torso bare.

"I was thinking about that today on the flight, actually."

That could mean anything. 

"And?"

"Of course I'm telling them," he laughs, running a hand through her hair, his fingers changing their mind halfway through and deciding instead to rub at her scalp, massaging gently and making her offer a soft sigh of contentment at the feeling. "Are you kidding? Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, I just thought, maybe..."

"I know, they'll be devastated that it won't be the two of us raising it."

She feels nauseous almost instantly, breaking away from his hand to sit up as well, cross-legged and a good couple feet away from him. She can see the way he tenses, too, propping one leg up onto the mattress as he rests his arm on his bent knee, running a hand first over his face, then through his hair.

"Kind of like me," he adds quietly, and suddenly, she's grateful for the darkness to hide the way she's tearing up despite her every attempt not to. "Have you told your parents?"

The subject change is predictable-- Karl is going to be a great father, and Lea isn't going to get the opportunity to be a great mother. That's _it_. She'll see Jon and _their_ baby maybe once a month if she's lucky-- unless she moves-- and there's nothing she can do about it. She agreed. 

Even if she were to bail out and keep the baby, refuse to give it to them-- it's still half of her and half of _Jonathan_. Knowing that she had betrayed him, hurt him, knowing that she had to look at that beautiful face _knowing_ that she'd lost him because she was too selfish to do the right thing--

"Of course I've told them," she informs him robotically, wondering for a split second whether or not to also tell him that they told her to seek refuge at home in an effort to make her feel better about the situation. She feels instantly guilty over it, knowing full well that Jon is likely more than aware of the fact that she's hurting over this.

 _Apparently_ just as much as he is. 

"My dad was going to offer to buy you that house again," she laughs, though it doesn't sound genuine.

"Lea, if I _could_ \--"

"Don't," she tells him, shaking her head. "Just don't."

Sitting up on his knees, he scoots over until he has her wrapped up in his arms, her face tucked into his chest as he holds her close. She has half the mind to grab her pillow and some extra sheets and sleep on the couch because _this isn't fair_ , but she doesn't, instead melting into his arms. It's the familiarity of it all that gets her. The way he smells like his aftershave and the slightly sweaty trace of their frenzied lovemaking from before. 

"You know I love you, right? So much." 

A part of her is tempted to tell him that apparently he doesn't love her enough to realize what this is doing to her, but she doesn't, just nodding numbly against his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

"It'll be fine," he hears himself repeating as he pats the hand on his left knee, the other far too preoccupied with bouncing up and down to calm him down. "It'll be fine."

She's already thrown up three times this morning, and while he _knows_ that that's supposed to be normal for pregnant women-- _women_ , yes, Lea is a _woman_ , and you're _definitely_ still gay-- he can't shake his own anxiety knowing that Lea is this anxious.

He's gay, he's known that since he was three when he not only played with Barbie and Ken dolls, smooshing together the faces of the Kens as they all got married one by one, but also when he started singing, dancing, and feeling _different_ from anyone else. Until he met Lea, of course, when his whole world fell into place, dancing down Broadway in the middle of the night with the woman of his dreams.

Why can't she be a guy and make this all easier? Why does she have to be a _she_?

A part of him wants to call the whole thing with Karl off and just... do this. With her. But how well-adjusted would he even be as a parent, flip-flopping back and forth on an issue as important as sexuality? Not that he'll be any better in that regard as a parent opposite Karl, where he'll still want to fly out to LA to cheat on his partner on a regular basis, and with a _girl_ , no less. 

He can't help but think that this was all a terrible idea after seeing Lea's face the night before, but he's not about to tell her that, not when they're so close to this immaterial _thing_ that they've both gotten so attached to by now.

"It'll be fine," he says again when she squeezes his hand, nodding as he awkwardly looks around the entirely too pink room, the gaudy decorations, the pictures of babies and flowers up on the wall. None of these things mean anything to him, and if he's honest with himself, he never thought once that he would find himself sitting in a gynecologist's office, not _once_. Under normal circumstances they'd be joking about it, making fun of the awkwardness of everything surrounding them, but he knows far too well how nervous she is-- he feels it, too.

"Ms. Sarfati?"

Lea's hand tenses in his, and he nods at her, trying hard to be reassuring and likely failing as they both get up, Jon uncertain of whether he should actually stay behind or come with her-- she's already peed in a cup, it's not about accompanying her for _that_ , which he clearly wouldn't do-- his heart finally settling into an uncomfortable place between throat and stomach when she takes his hand and gives him her own non-verbal reassurance.

She wants him there. _Of course_ she wants him there, they're inseparable, and he instantly feels the sharp pang of his own fears coming up inside of him like a wellspring that feels slightly like a sudden panic attack as he considers the ramifications of their actions. Lea is pregnant.

 _Lea is pregnant_. 

It hasn't really hit him yet, not _really_ , but now, Lea sitting up onto the table in the examination room, stirrups and all-- he's only heard horror stories until now-- everything feels too real. 

Despite the nurse's insistence that the doctor would be _right in_ , it becomes very clear, very quickly, that it'll be a while until they're out of here, let alone moved to the ultrasound room, and he wraps an arm around Lea, her legs dangling off the side of the seat, tucking her in under his chin.

"Have you already decided what you're going to do about work?" he asks, holding her at arm's length as he smiles, everything-- at least for the moment-- feeling back to normal, natural, familiar.

"Well, obviously. I think I might just take a break for a while, you know? It's not like I'm going to be of much use to anyone while I'm pregnant. And after-- well, that isn't really an issue, right?"

"Right," he mutters softly, suddenly realizing that they're back to the same exact topic again. "It's just--"

"What, that you're gay?" It wasn't what he was going to say, but apparently it is now, and his jaw tightens as he holds her hand. "Gay guys don't sleep with their female friends. Especially not their _best_ friend."

She's right, of course.

"Unless they're really confused," he finishes quietly for her, frowning, wondering for a second how much of this is fueled by the hormones from the pregnancy, and how much is genuine, instantly berating himself for even thinking it. "Look, Lea, I'm... huge in the LGBT community. I can't very well tell them that I'm fucking you."

"But you want to," she insists, and he sighs.

"Yes. I do want to." Well, _a part_ of him wants to, though that part is quietly resigned to loving Lea in the shadows and _nowhere_ else. The fallout would be... tremendous. "But that doesn't mean that it's going to happen. Not with--" he wants to say _Karl_ for a moment, and then promptly doesn't, realizing he'd rather swallow his own tongue, "not with this baby and everything else going on."

"But _even if_ ," she continues again, Jon envisioning a long line of _buts_ still to come as he internally begs the doctor to just come in already so that this conversation can be over, "we love each other."

As if that's the answer to everything, which it _isn't_ , he _knows_ it isn't, and it's ridiculous to even think it.

Every time he tries to sit back and think about what his and Lea's future would be like, it ends in disaster. In his head, something always goes wrong, whether it's one of them dying, or fights all the time, or an army of angry gay men stampeding the house. He's rationalizing. It's tremendously stupid.

"There's a big different between loving someone-- which I do, with all my heart-- and being in love with someone," he whispers to her, knowing that it's a reality check that they _both_ need. Of course he loves her. But she's still a _she_.

Finally the door opens and he returns to his full height, not letting go of Lea's hand until she forces him to by pulling away. He deserves that, he thinks one moment, until the next when everything goes blank.

"Well, you're definitely pregnant."

It's as if suddenly, in that moment, nothing about their previous conversation really matters anymore, Lea's arms around him with a sudden squeal as he laughs and holds her as tightly as he can.

Karl doesn't matter, being gay doesn't matter, loving her but not being in love with her doesn't _matter_ , because all that does is Lea and this baby they're actually having together. 

What happens later, they can worry about then.

Most of the doctor's tests are just as awkward as he's expected them to be with, perhaps, the lone exception of her having blood drawn. Everything _looks_ fine-- and even if everyone keeps telling them that they'll hear more in a couple of days on the specimen and blood test results, he can't help feeling like he's just been told that there are ten perfect little fingers and ten perfect little toes and the little thing is going to come out looking exactly like Lea, maybe with his hair, but really, mostly just Lea.

All this time, the sonogram has been what he's been looking forward to the most, but when he's finally standing in the dark room where it's all supposed to happen, where he's supposed to meet his _son_ or _daughter_ for the first time on that screen, he feels like the rug is being swept out from under him, the only thing keeping him firmly rooted to the ground Lea's hand in his.

He wonders why he's so panicked-- really, he's not the one having what really, truly looks like an awkward dildo with a condom on it shoved up his private parts. Lea doesn't even look fazed, a soft laugh escaping her as she looks at him, beaming.

"It'll be fine," she's the one to tell him this time around, and he just nods, running a hand through over her hair as he looks at her as if he's seeing her for the first time. Maybe he is. "Calm down, daddy," she grins, "what are you so worried about?"

It hits him like a brick when he realizes it, realizes that _mom_ and _dad_ \-- they're real now. He's going to be a father, and she's--

His heart aches in his chest just as the monitor cuts him off, amorphous gray movement catching his eye as he feels his heart-- he's _sure_ \-- stop, replaced by a new, different heartbeat that isn't quite his own, but Lea's, too. 

"Lea, that's-- that's--"

"I know," she whispers, her eyes glued to the screen as much as his are, and he realizes belatedly how tightly he's gripping onto her hand with both of his, staring at the little bean of a person on the screen.

"That's little Baby Groff-Sarfati," the nurse nods with a chuckle, clicking and measuring and occasionally moving what Jon's sure by now is some kind of _probe_ for a better look.

"You're really cute, little baby," Jon hears himself whisper, faintly feeling Lea's hand grip his tighter. He's tearing up, he can't help it, and suddenly, he can't remember the last time he was this happy. "And I can't wait to meet you."

He can't believe the little boy or girl is a part of him and a part of Lea, and he has to wonder whether he hasn't just seen a glimpse of God in the shape of a tiny, little, lentil-shaped miracle.

"Can we... get pictures of that?" he hears Lea ask, prompting him back to reality as he absently wipes at his eyes, realizing that the tears he thought so well-contained a second ago are now running down his cheeks.

The monitor shuts off too soon, he thinks, trying not to think about the fact that he's supposed to be sharing this joy with someone else, not with Lea. 

The pictures aren't nearly as good as the sound of the little heartbeat, the moving, shifting-- growing, too, even if they can't see it-- live-action feed of the little thing, but it's close enough, and he's still smiling at them as Lea gets cleaned up-- all until he realizes that there's three of them there. One for Lea, one for him, and one for Karl. The third isn't just a spare, and guilt grips his stomach painfully as Lea reemerges from the bathroom to grab hold of his hand. 

"Let's go home, daddy."

  


&

Half an hour later, as it turns out that pregnant women have cravings (as Lea puts it, _needs_ ), _home_ suddenly turns into a detour to a local vegan soups and sandwich place. 

"Isn't your lease running out?" he asks, eyeing the toppings on the sandwich in front of him with no uncertain trepidation. "Seeing as you didn't renew it before the deadline?"

For Lea, it's a vegan tomato-basil soup, healthful, logical-- and only when his eyes turn to an extra-large mocha soymilk frappe with extra chocolate sauce does he realize where _her_ cravings are leading her.

"Well, that's not for another three and a half months," she says more casually than he might have expected. Still, she has that look on her face that tells him that she _knows_ that his concern is coming from the fact that three and a half months fall well within the bounds of her pregnancy. "I don't know, I thought I might move in with Stephen."

 _There_ it is.

" _Stephen_?"

"He offered! It's not that big of a deal. Besides, you're living with Karl, aren't you?"

"Those two are _not_ even remotely comparable. You don't _hate_ Karl."

"That doesn't mean I like him, either."

That jolts him. For all he's known, he's always thought that Karl and Lea have gotten along, but perhaps a part of that understanding comes from the fact that Karl likes _everyone_ , gets along with _everyone_ , and would never dare think poorly of _anyone_. It's a stupid assumption to have made, he realizes that now.

"I'm sure Karl would be just thrilled if I moved in with you two."

He stares at her for a long moment, stabbing her drink with her straw as she attempts to mix the chocolate sauce in with the rest of it all, holding his breath before reaching across the table to take her free hand in both of his. " _I_ would be thrilled, Lea."

It's the first honest moment they've had in a while-- this doesn't have to do with love, with sex, with _sexuality_ \-- rather, it's about _them_ , and the fact that New York will always feel empty without her there by his side. That he knows he'd miss her even if he'd never gotten to meet her.

When she winks at him in response, he knows everything is right again with the world.

&

Under normal circumstances he'd be pissed. It's pouring, someone stole her covered parking space, presumably to park out of the rain, and the nearest open spot on the street is two blocks down from her building.

But Lea-- after reporting the problem to her landlord-- is grinning hugely.

"What on earth made you decide that it was a good idea to switch from owning your own home to renting an apartment, again?" he asks tersely, a copy of _Cosmopolitan_ in his hand to shield him from the rain whenever they _do_ finally decide to step outside and brave the weather, Jon still staring at the door handle as if it has spectacularly bad fashion sense.

"First, the fact that I miss New York and want to get back there sooner rather than later and _apparently_ wasn't attached enough to LA to keep the house, and secondly, I like being able to call someone who isn't Stephen to come fix stuff for me," she laughs, and he can't help laughing with her.

"Sometimes," he grins, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, "I think you forget that you're Lea Michele."

On that note, he finally opens the car door into torrents of rain, cursing the fact that Lea didn't think to bring an umbrella when rain was _clearly_ in the forecast-- _80% is nothing, Jon, don't be so negative_ \-- quickly realizing that the cosmopolitan is going to be useless, and setting off into a jog before Lea calls after him, laughing.

"Don't! Come back here! _Jonathan_!"

It's an admittedly warm October day, and the rain feels almost pleasant against his if he squints and convinces himself hard enough. On the other hand, Jon is fairly convinced that every single day is perfectly warm in Los Angeles, and that this is nothing special.

At least, maybe if it weren't for Lea, it wouldn't be, but she drags him back by the hand, jumping into puddles and onto him and laughing until he does it all with her, and by the time they actually make it to her condo, they're both soaked to the skin, and Jon's cheeks hurt from all the laughing.

"You're ridiculous," he mutters as he tries hard to wring out his shirt before they step inside, and she just beams and leans up to kiss him again. 

"That's why you love me so much."

"That's why I love you _the mostest_ ," he grins, returning the kiss on the forehead, fairly certain that by now, he's wet in places his body really was never meant for.

&

"Heeey, mom."

Lea is by his side in an instant, and he has to contain his laughter as he grins at her, the winter squash soup they _were_ making suddenly forgotten.

"Yeah, no, everything is fine," he nods, gesturing at the phone to signal to Lea that he'd left her a message earlier, mouthing the words. "Lea and I just had some big news to share, actually."

"You're finally getting married?" he can hear his mother beaming on the other end, suddenly making him want to bury his head in his hands as his unoccupied forearm comes to rest on the kitchen counter.

" _Mom_ ," he admonishes with a soft laugh, rolling his eyes just _slightly_ as Lea finds herself suddenly so much more interested in the soup than the conversation. "We're having a _baby_."

He knows the instant the words leave his lips that he worded it _incorrectly_.

"What? But that's--"

"She's the surrogate," he hurries to correct himself as quickly as possible with a soft sigh, suddenly not liking the word very much at all. "She-- volunteered herself for the position."

"What brought this on?"

That's a longer conversation, of course, and he has to think back to what even started all of this, _what on earth_ made Lea think that this was a good idea to go along with. It's almost awkward to explain to his mother, but his mention of Karl derails the conversation somewhat.

"Oh, that nice boy you introduced us to at Thanksgiving? Who also visited on Easter?" 

"Yes, Karl. Him."

"Well, I think that's wonderful!" he hears his mother say, and he flinches just barely enough for Lea to notice. "You know we're very happy for you, right? Are you just trying or is this for sure already? You'll have to be sure to keep us updated on everything! Our very first grandbaby!"

His mother's enthusiasm feels almost premature, and he runs a nervous hand through his hair, absently tucking it behind his ear.

"I was kind of hoping you'd be excited for us. It's, um, yeah-- it's for sure. We went to see her gynecologist today, actually."

It reminds him of coming out. His parents have always been supportive of him and Dave, and whether it's the arts or boys, it never seemed to really matter. But a part of him can't forget that his mother still asked him if he was _sure_ that he was gay. 

He doesn't blame her, of course. He has _wonderful_ parents, and he's lucky, he knows that. But he's also smart enough to understand that most parents would want their son or daughter to have a traditional wedding ceremony in a church on a Sunday where the whole family could attend and be happy for them. They have Dave, of course, who got married just recently, but the last thing he wants is to tell his mother now, after all the years of her coming to terms with the fact that he _is_ gay, that he _isn't_.

"Well, tell Lea that we, of course, still consider her part of the family and that she should know that we all love her. This is an awfully nice thing of her to do for you, you know."

"I know."

The conversation ends on a slightly awkward note until he's left frowning at the phone in front of him, brow creased.

"Well? What did she have to say?"

"You're invited for dinner the next time we're up in Lancaster," he starts, retreating back to the comforts of the sofa, leaning against the back of it. "Everyone still loves you and they're all terribly happy that we're doing this, just quietly disappointed that I'm still gay."

"You know she loves you," Lea frowns, concern for Jon taking over any other feelings she might have had otherwise. 

"Yeah, I know, it's just--"

"You know what we're going to do tonight?" she asks, sounding very much like she's already decided for them as she ladles soup into both their bowls.

"What?"

"Well, first, we'll eat, and then once that's done, we'll put in our favorite musical soundtracks and sing and dance our way to blissful exhaustion. We have to get this little mash-up of us in my belly used to hearing a _lot_ of showtunes."

&

It's a good night, one of the best they've had in a while. Jon has this way of laughing with his entire body, his whole body rocking back and forth regardless of what position he's in, sitting, standing, lying down. It only gets worse when he's drunk, mouth wide open as he lights up her whole world, singing and dancing to choreography copied off of youtube, and badly, at that. 

By the time she collapses on him after a truly terrible number, both of them laughing hard enough to make their stomach muscles ache and Lea struggling to breathe, everything feels right with the world again.

"You know what I want to audition for?" he asks her when he finally regains his bearings, and she sits up slightly from her position in the crook of his arm.

"What?"

" _Thoroughly Modern Millie_. Again. This time, with less desperation and lunacy."

"Maybe," she laughs, "you can do your stomach thing!"

"Oh my god, Lea!" His whole body shakes as he tugs her closer, his hand running playfully through her hair to mess it up even worse than it was before from all the dancing and jumping around. "I love you way too much. The stuff I put up with from you is _ridiculous_."

"You love me," she beams, leaning in to kiss him more playfully than anything else, her lips smooshed together.

It isn't until he threads his fingers into her hair and leans in to _really_ kiss her that it turns into more. 

"Jon," she whispers, shaking her head as she pulls away. "Don't. We can't keep doing this."

It's a stupid thing to say, because _of course_ they can, and _of course_ they will. Karl will be none the wiser, Stephen can leave if he has to, and everything will keep happening the way it's been, even if she's pregnant with his child. 

"Then maybe you should stop kissing me," he mutters against her lips, his hand coming up to squeeze at her hip, making her hips press against his, earning her a groan.

From that point, it's a pointless discussion to even bother with, Lea absently flipping through her Broadway playlist with her iHome remote until "I Believe" comes on, and he picks her up to carry her to the bedroom, bridal style. It's a nice thought, but it doesn't make the situation any less bittersweet as she moves to straddle his legs, forcing his jeans down until she can tug his cock out of his pajama pants, the hand that wraps around him making Jon groan as his head falls back against the comforter.

"Fuck, Lea," he growls as Lea wraps her mouth around his head, sliding down as far as she can go.

"Stop-- Lea, don't-- let me," he mutters a few moments later, _needing_ her to, tugging her up and off him and rolling them over, tugging off his pants completely before moving to get hers down and off, hand slipping under her shirt to palm at her breast, his other hand moving quickly to slip past her folds to press inside of her, first one, then two, then his tongue. 

"Ohhh god--"

"I'm not stopping until you come for me, Lea baby," he mutters against her clit, his fingers working her furiously know as he eats her out, groaning into her as though this is getting him off as much as it is her. 

"Jon, please," she whimpers, wondering for a split second how a gay man can feel so comfortable eating a girl out, all until she comes on his fingers, hard.

He doesn't waste any time, pulling away from her only to tug his shirt off before positioning himself and pushing inside of her in one solid stroke, a low groan slipping out as he thrusts once, twice, bliss written all over his face.

"Fuck, Lea, feel _so good_."

"Please, daddy," she whines, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist. "Tell me I'm beautiful."

"Most beautiful girl in the world," he mutters against the skin of her neck as he rocks his hips into hers. "Only girl I'd ever even think about sleeping with, baby."

His hand sneaks between their bodies, knowing already that he won't be able to last long, that all it'll take will be her orgasm to set him off, his thumb working her furiously. He knows her body too well by now, too intimately, knows how he can get her off fast, slow, how he can drive her crazy and make her beg for more. For now, though, speed is all that matters, and he groans into her skin as he moves faster, his hips jerking erratically as he pounds into her.

"Tell me you love me? D-daddy--!"

" _Of course_ I love you. More than anything or anyone."

" _Jon_ \--"

He pinches her clit, seeming to send her over the edge as she comes, whimpering, clenching around him hard enough to draw his own orgasm out, groaning as he comes inside of her, his forehead pressed against her shoulder as his body rocks out the remainder of his own orgasm, pulling her into his arms as he unceremoniously collapses to the side of her, littering her face with kisses as she comes down from her own high with a yawn.

"That good?"

"That good," she mutters softly, nodding against him, looking for a moment like she might fall asleep. "You?"

"You have no idea," he laughs softly, his hands cradling the sides of her face as he leans his forehead against hers. 

"Most gay guys don't sleep with their girlfriends. And I'm pretty sure they don't enjoy it, either on the off chance that they _do_."

"You're ridiculous," he tells her, his smile fading just slightly as he looks at her. 

" _You_ like sleeping with a girl."

That makes him laugh again, loud and bright, and he leans in to kiss her forehead. "You're certainly right about that. I love sleeping with you. But," he continues with that same soft smirk from before, "that doesn't mean anything."

&

"I'm just saying," Karl sighs into his Grand Marnier Margarita, the picture of _their_ baby lying beside it on the bar. "I'm just saying it would have been nice to have been there."

"I know," Jon concedes, awkwardly tucking his hair behind his ears, entirely too messy. It's getting too long again. "I'm sorry." He really does feel bad about it, just not enough to have done anything any differently.

"Just-- we'll plan next time, and both go."

Suddenly the drink is abandoned, and Jon feels comforting hands wrap around his body. He can feel Karl smiling against him, and it makes him wonder what on earth he did to deserve this man when he keeps running back to LA to sleep with Lea, what he did to deserve this baby. 

He's a _good_ person, he's not _supposed_ to fuck someone over.

"I told Lea I was going to try out for _Millie_."

"Yeah? I say go for it. Might actually distract you from your phone for a bit."

He knows Karl is joking, of course, but that doesn't really do all that much to help the implication.

"Oh, and I told my parents," he goes on, ignoring the stab, his fingers content to occupy themselves with the small stir-stick in the gin fizz in front of him. There's almost only ice left in the glass now, not that it really matters.

"It's like I hardly even know anymore you when you come back from your trips with Lea," he laughs, and Jon has to force himself to keep from visibly flinching as Karl returns to his seat, ordering them both another drink. "Did you decide to name the baby while you were there, too?"

"What? No, that's ridiculous." 

"I'm just saying, it would be nice to be a bit more involved."

"Karl, it was just _one_ visit," Jon mutters, though it sounds hollow and empty even to his own ears. "You are my partner. But Lea is my _best friend_ , and I'd die for her in a heartbeat. But that doesn't mean that anything is going on behind your back, or that you're less important. My relationship with Lea and my relationship with you are intrinsically different from each other. Lea _can't_ be for me what you are."

They're the right words, it seems, even if they're not entirely honest. Lea _could_ be-- even wants to be, he thinks-- for him what Karl is.

"Come on, let's go home," Karl nods, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "So you can prove it to me."

They spend the rest of the evening in bed, first making love, then watching reruns of _Friends_ while eating late-night cereal and cuddling. It's a nice evening, and it would be even nicer if he could have stopped thinking about Lea-- the jokes she would have laughed at, the fact that she would have gotten irrationally riled up over the fact that they were out of Honey Bunches of Oats and would have insisted they go on a grocery store run at one a.m. that would have easily turned into an adventure.

He _misses_ her. His chest aches painfully, and he has to wonder if everyone feels this way if they're without their best friend. His relationships with Karl and Lea are intrinsically different, he knows that-- but he's never thought before that his relationship with Lea so vastly outweighs everything else in the world. 

When Karl's been asleep for a good half hour, he finally feels safe enough to slip out of bed and onto their porch, phone in hand, the sharp, cold sting of the early November night making him wonder whether he _deserves_ to suffer for calling Lea at three in the morning without Karl knowing. 

Three rings. "Jon?"

"Hey, you."

It's wonderful, hearing her voice. After all these years, it's become almost comforting-- calling Lea always seems to fix everything, and he can feel himself relax into the chair as he overlooks the city missing its most amazing starlet as much as he does.

"Is everything okay? It's three a.m. where you are, baby."

"I just miss you."

That seems to stop her, and he can hear the soft, slow intake of breath as she smiles into the phone. "I miss you, too."

"I couldn't sleep-- I mean, we fixed it, and it's fine now, but Karl and I got into a bit of a tiff," he hears himself say, leaning his head back in the chair, ankle coming to rest on his knee, unable to make his leg stop shaking, more from fidgeting than the cold.

"What happened?"

"You," he laughs softly. _It's always you_. "He was just upset that he didn't get to come along to the first ultrasound."

"Oh."

He can't help but feel that it's _their_ baby, and that Karl doesn't really get it. It's the same sort of noise, the same sort of _oh_ that he hears in his own head when he thinks about how _right_ it felt to be there with Lea, and only Lea. That he somehow feels entitled to see their child on that screen beside the woman of his dreams... exclusively. It's stupid, of course, since it's supposed to be as much Karl's as it is his-- and not supposed to be Lea's, in turn, either.

But it feels like it.

"It's fine, I mean. We worked it out. Don't worry about it, mom."

There's a long silence that seems to stretch across the phone line from one end to the other for miles on end, and Jon feels his heart in his throat, pushing, threatening to come up and out and leave him high and dry with nothing left with which to fend for himself. "I guess that means something totally new now. Even if... I'm not actually going to be a mom." There's another beat, and suddenly it feels as though his stomach knows ahead of time already what she's going to say before she says it. "Karl is going to be a great dad, though."

"He doesn't seem nearly as excited as you are," Jon hears himself say, practically out of his own body as he jumps to her defense. It makes him feel as guilty as she sounds on the other end, and he can't help but wonder what the hell they're even doing, what he's _thinking_ , doing this.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she rushes to reassure him, and he knows she's lying almost instantly. "And if it doesn't work out, you can always rethink the whole gay thing."

"Lea--"

"I know, daddy," she sighs. "We don't talk about that."

&

They talk regularly, of course, outside of discussing the baby, but every Saturday morning-- if it wasn't his favorite before, it certainly is now-- she's taken to calling him just to tell him how the baby is doing. She's promised him, of course, that she'd call him the second there's kicking (so he can book a flight to LA and feel it for himself, see if the baby recognizes his or her daddy) or something similarly exciting, but the weekly updates are more routine, little facts about development that always manage to put a smile on his face from 3,000 miles away. 

"The baby weighs about as much as a grape right now, and the little embryonic tail isn't there anymore, so that's... good. And there're all the organs, not totally developed yet, but they're there, kind of like the facial features, and-- brain waves. Actually... loads of stuff happens during week nine." There's audible scrolling, and he can picture her with her hand on her abdomen as he leans further back on his bed, cuddling a pillow to his front as he listens to her, soft smile playing on his face. "There are fingerprints now, in case he or she ever gets arrested," that makes him laugh, "and... if you were to put your finger in his or her grip right now, you'd feel like a dad. Because those little fingers would hold on and refuse to let go, Jon."

That stops him, and he sits up to run a harried hand through his hair, their last conversation in California echoing in his head. That she's supposed to be here. That she should move in with him and Karl instead of with Stephen, because the ache he feels in his chest at wanting to be with _both of them_ , his favorite girl and _their baby_ , is tremendous. It's a miracle he hasn't been swallowed whole by the weight of it all just yet. 

"What was that about?"

Karl's entrances-- to no fault of Karl's-- have become nerve-wracking. It isn't even that Karl is particularly critical of his phone conversations with Lea, it's that Jon feels like he should be. Like he should feel guilty for spending so much time on the phone with her. He doesn't even know what changed between then and now, how the pregnancy could make such a difference, but it does. In less significant terms, it's like promising to go to the zoo with someone, only to go with someone else

"Oh, um, weekly status report," he mutters, tucking his hair behind his ears and forcing himself off the bed to kiss Karl on the cheek. "Our baby no longer has a tail."

"Well, that's _wonderful_ news," he laughs, and for a moment, Jon feels like nothing has changed, running his hands into Karl's hair and tugging softly with a crooked smile. This is nice, familiar. 

"Your hair is getting too long," Jon mutters softly, a complete non-sequitur from his thoughts at the moment, his mind racing just about as fast as his heart is at the thought. "Listen, I know you've been feeling really left out lately what with Lea being in California. I know her lease is running out kind of soon. If she--"

He misses her. And what with her carrying their baby, it almost seems like a reasonable thing to ask of Karl, even if he can't help the lump in his throat at the thought of this betrayal. 

"You're suggesting she live with us," Karl laughs, turning in Jon's arms to kiss him, hands at his waist as he smiles. "I don't have a problem with it, Buckaroo. And it's sweet of you to think of me like that."

"Anything for you, right?" he grins, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

&

"So, we've all been hearing the baby bump rumors by now, including yourself, I'm sure. I know the audience would just love to hear the story behind that as much as myself," Regis laughs.

Lea's smiling face on his TV screen has him leaning forward in his seat, grin on his face. The bump isn't all that evident just yet, though in the dress she's wearing, highlighting all of her curves, it's hard to explain away her slowly burgeoning baby bump as nothing but a big lunch.

"Ha, well! The baby is Jonathan Groff's." 

"Isn't he gay?"

"Yes, yes he is," she says softly, nodding. "But it's actually not mine," she laughs somewhat sheepishly. "I'm just the surrogate for him and his wonderful partner."

The way her hands end up on her abdomen almost as though drawn there instinctively has him swallowing hard, jaw set as he leans back in the couch. 

"What's going on?" Karl's arms wrap around his torso from behind over the couch as he leans in to nibble at his earlobe, making Jon's shoulders relax just barely. 

"Lea's on Regis and Kelly talking about the baby."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, come sit and watch."

"Actually," Lea continues as Jon turns the volume up, "he should be watching right now, since he _promised me_ that he would, so hi, Jonathan!" She waves at the screen, beaming genuinely for a moment, enough so to make him pick up his phone to text her. 

_Hello to you, too, gorgeous._

He knows she won't get it until later, but he can't help himself, not with the way her baby bump is starting to slowly show itself, like a universal declaration that she loves him enough to carry his child.

&

Realizing she loves him is like noticing the earth goes around the sun. She should have seen it coming so much sooner-- it seems so logical, now that she thinks about it in retrospect. On the other hand, she doesn't know if she would have been able to take the heartbreak of knowing for longer than is already necessary. 

Now, the heartbreak tugs at her, insisting. Her arm feels cold against the rim of the toilet, a harried hand tangling in the front of her hair, making a mess of things as she cries. Leaning up to flush the toilet, the stark reminder of the baby inside of her rings more than apparent. 

It's Jon. It's _always_ been Jon, and when her phone lights up with _Stephen_ 's name, she feels bile rise in her throat all over again, not sure what's just happened to her world, and let alone how to fix it.

&

"Heeeey, baby. How's my favorite mommy in the world?"

"I miss you," she whispers desperately into the phone, the words almost as good and yet not even remotely close to what she really means to say. 

"I miss you, too," she can hear him frown, his tone instantly serious as he hears the broken way her voice sounds. She's been like this ever since the realization has hit her that there's no way out of this, no way to _fix_ being in love with your gay best friend. "What's wrong?"

"The baby's gotten a lot bigger," she swallows hard, closing her eyes as she lets her head fall back against the kitchen counter. "6.7 centimeters this week. Everything still looks good and healthy. The... doctor wanted to show me the ultrasound, but I didn't want to see it. Not... without you there. We're in the second trimester now, and everything is fully formed, and... I have this baby bump that's so much bigger than the last time you saw me, and I keep getting scared that I'll feel it move, or kick, and that you won't be there to feel it, Jon."

The silence on the other end weighs heavily on her, and she takes a deep, shaky breath as she runs her hand into her hair and stalls it there, tugging helplessly. "The baby can even smile now."

Returning the conversation to a neutral topic about the baby doesn't work, not with the way she can hear Jon's slow, calculated exhale on the other end of the line, not when she already knows what he's thinking.

"We'll be there for the next ultrasound. I _promise_."


	5. Chapter 5

She's hated the idea from the second he said it, the _we_ glaring out at her with surprising venom. 

It means no sex, constant competing with Karl for Jon's affection, and no quality time alone. Waking up beside him is the best part of Jon's visits, and when she told him that she's been missing _him_ , this is what she meant. 

Falling asleep beside him, cooking dinner with him, hand-holding, going to plays together, singing along at the top of their lungs to her musical soundtracks while they dance like lunatics around the condo in their underwear, skidding around her hardwood floor with their socks, fucking him, two a.m. cereal with soymilk, falling asleep with her head in his lap while they cuddle.

With Karl there, everything changes, and she has half the mind to ask for him to wait out in the sitting room while Jon and her go in for her ultrasound. It's awkward enough being nude from the waist down with her legs hoisted up and spread apart on a table. Doing so with Karl there makes it a good ten times more uncomfortable.

"I don't want him here," she whispers to Jon as quietly as she can manage while Karl talks to the doctor.

"I-I know. But it'll be fine, baby. I promise," he whispers back, clutching her hand in between both of his and leaning in to kiss her hand softly as he closes his eyes. 

Whenever Karl is out of earshot, he can't stop repeating how happy he is to see her, how beautiful she looks, how proud he is to have her carrying his baby in her body. It makes her stomach flutter one moment until she realizes that they'll have to return to their friends-only façade within the next moment.

They're all watching the screen with baited breath, waiting for it to turn on and remind them that whatever has been growing inside of her is actually real, Lea's gaze flickering between Jon's face and the screen.

Karl has always been quiet, controlled, contained, especially in public-- everything Jon isn't. Every time that she's around, he stiffens, and despite Jon's reassurance that he lightens up when it's just the two of them, she has a tough time believing him. It makes her hang even more on her phone than she would otherwise-- something she does hardly at all when it's just Jon and her, only occasionally taking the time to tweet about their time together.

Typically under circumstances this stressful and uncomfortable, she'd text Jon, but that clearly isn't an option this time around. 

Jon's already tearing up as he clutches onto her hand, tucking his hair messily back behind his ear as he takes the moment to look at her, silently mouthing _I love you_. 

That sets her off, too, and she nods, tears rolling down her temples and into her hair as he leans down to kiss her on the forehead, Karl's hand refusing to leave his shoulder as the feed comes on. 

"Oh my god, Lea," Jon whispers, blinking through what seems to be a fresh haze of tears, and for a moment, she can pretend that it's just the two of them there and no one else. "The baby is-- it's waving to us, I think," he laughs softly, looking back to Karl to see that he's still okay, too, Lea's heart clenching up.

"We can get pictures of that, right?" Karl mutters, lips drawn together tightly as he stares at the sonogram. 

"Of course. I'll get you three copies."

"Jon, can I speak to you privately for a moment? Outside?"

&

Not knowing what was said while she scrambled to wipe the lubricant sludge off her stomach and put her maternity pants back on has her even more on edge than she would be under normal circumstances with Karl there. 

"Well, this eggplant panini is delicious."

"Mm."

Lunch is awkward at best, and Jon's desperate attempts at making the two of them more hospitable towards each other feels more than a little in vain, Lea throwing Jon a halfway pleading, halfway stern look.

"So, what did you guys talk about outside?"

"Nothing," Karl supplies quite readily before Jon can even so much as open his mouth, licking his lips as he picks at the soup in front of him

"I see. Jon, what did you two talk about out there?"

"You know, the last time I checked, this wasn't your baby," Karl interrupts again, Jon visibly flinching as his brow furrows, eyes slowly closing in irritation. Lea doesn't need to be told twice to reach under the table to squeeze comfortingly at his thigh. "Actually, that was something I wanted to bring up. I'm-- _Jon and I_ are concerned about your vegan diet in lieu of the pregnancy."

"I never--"

"I'm _perfectly_ well-nourished according to the doctor," she glares hotly, the hand on Jon's knee leaving his almost immediately, as though she's been burned. " _Your baby_ is going to grow up perfectly healthy and happy outside of my hands. That ought to be enough already, me doing this for you and Jon."

"We both know you're not doing this for me and Jon," Karl whispers dangerously quietly, jaw set as he stares her down. What's even worse is that he's right, and there's nothing she can do about it.

"In less than six months you won't ever have to deal with me again. You should be happy."

"Okay, then," Jon interjects, rising from the table with a clatter of dishes. "I think we're done here, don't you?"

&

"He just... feels left out."

The sonogram of little baby Groff-Sarfati feels like it's burning a hole into the pocket of her jeans, the crisp, cold winter air biting at her even through the warm, fuzzy blanket around her as she sits on the absurdly cold deck chair on her porch to overlook the nighttime Los Angeles skyline. It hasn't snowed-- a part of her sincerely wishing that it would, to make her feel more like she's at home, with Jon, in New York, but she knows that even there she wouldn't feel at home right now, not with Karl right there, threatening to force their relationship into being something it's not, and Jon not doing much of anything to stop it.

It hurts, and she knows that it'll feel ten times worse when she wakes up on Christmas morning without Jon beside her, nothing but the swell of her belly to remind her that he might love her, maybe, if only she weren't a girl.

"Well, he's being an asshole."

"I know," he sighs, moving to sit beside her as he wraps his throw around himself a bit more tightly, Lea detecting a slight shiver underneath it. "I'll talk to him."

"No, you won't. Because he's right."

"What are you talking about, that's not--"

"It's _not_ my baby, Jon. It never _was_ my baby in the first place. Even if I wish things were different, that doesn't suddenly magically change everything."

"If you lived in New York, everything would be different."

It's such a nice thought, and Lea has to admit that right now, with Christmas right around the corner, and Hanukkah in full swing, there isn't any place she'd rather be than New York. Spending the holidays with her parents, with Jon, and spending the days walking through the snow-covered, lit-up streets of their favorite city to go holiday shopping together and ice-skating at the Rockefeller Center, nothing better to do at the end of the day than curl up beside each other on the couch, each of them a cup of hot cocoa in hand as they watch their favorite Christmas classics and sing along to Doris Day and Bing Crosby. 

But the man currently occupying her living room couch doesn't fit in that equation, Karl throwing the occasional annoyed glance at the porch as though it might bring Jon back to him faster.

"No, it wouldn't. Because you'd still be with Karl, and I'd still be just a girl."

"Lea, don't you think you're being a little over-dramatic? You've never been _just a girl_ to me."

"No, I really don't think I am!" she snaps, tugging more tightly on the blanket around her as though it might substitute for the warmth of Jon's arms, as much as she knows it can't. "You can't pretend that what we do is something people typically do with their best friend! And yet you go on as if _I don't come first_ , when I clearly should! I should be your number one, but you go and defend Karl as though he means the world to you when I _know_ that you don't look at him the same way you look at me! But I can't say anything because you're _gay_? Because you're too scared of admitting that this is more like a relationship than anything you have with Karl? That I _know_ that you're the reason I'm never going to have a single healthy relationship with a guy ever again because no one is ever going to measure up to you? I'm _not_ being over-dramatic, Jon, I'm being _heartbroken_."

The hormones feel almost overwhelming as she makes a beeline for her room, locking the door behind her. When Jon doesn't follow, it feels like a betrayal, and she realizes as she looks out the window and doesn't see any snow, three days from Christmas, that she's never felt so far away from home ever before.

&

They leave the day before Christmas Eve, and Lea, arms curled around her legs in a desperate attempt at closeness as she watches Christmas specials on TV without Jon, can't stop herself from calling Stephen.

Sleeping with him feels hollow and meaningless at best, and what's more, she feels distinctly as though she's cheating on Jon by the time she's done. 

It's not fair. 

By the time Stephen leaves, Lea realizing bitterly that she's happier being depressed about things instead of trying desperately to be okay with the sorry excuse for a relationship that she has, the only thing left to keep her feeling at home in her condo is the Charlie Brown Christmas Special on TV and the blanket around her shoulders. With the little boy or girl growing in her belly, she should have felt surrounded by family, but the hand on her abdomen falls with a heavy, guilt-laden heart at the reminder that the baby is hers about as much as Jon is. 

She can only have sex on top now, not that Jon knows. A part of her had still hoped that they might slip away during their visit, but that never happened, and it's not as though it's her place to ask.

Christmas Eve, the last day of Hanukkah this year, feels lacking somehow. Talking to her mother and father over skype only did so much to cure her homesickness, and every single Christmas song on her stereo feels more bitter than the next. _All I Want For Christmas Is You, Baby Please Come Home, I'll Be Home for Christmas, Last Christmas_ \-- those that don't remind her of the Spring Awakening Holiday Concert remind her of how far away Jon is, and even though she's not throwing up anymore, the thought that he still hasn't called her makes her nauseous.

The tree in her living room is modest at best, and decorated almost entirely from things she already had lying around from past Christmases, too used to going out with Jon to pick a color, new ornaments, and return home to decorate together while they listen to their favorite Christmas songs and he gets her tangled up in lights. This year doesn't feel much like Christmas at all, the only remaining staple the cup of hot chocolate in her hands, Lea craving anything and everything with chocolate in it by this point, whether it's spoonfuls of nutella or apples dipped in the richest, darkest chocolate she can find at the store to melt. 

But when she realizes that she's eaten every single jar of nutella that she had, there's still no one there to run out to the store for her, and for a moment, she seriously wonders if it wouldn't be better if she did live in New York, Jon only a stone's throw away from her if she needs him, or misses him, or-- maybe even, if he misses her.

When it still isn't snowing by ten p.m., she picks up the phone and dials.

She's almost certain when he hasn't picked up by the tenth ring that he won't be, the slowly growing, sickening feeling in her stomach taking hold and threatening to kill her.

"Lea," he breathes, sounding as though he's just gotten back from a run. "I'm sorry, I had to get into another room where Karl wouldn't be listening in."

"I miss you," she whispers, her voice breaking horribly as she fights to hold onto her dignity.

"Oh baby, I miss you, too. I'm-- I'm sorry, this is my fault. I was an asshole. I should have defended you, and I didn't, and now I feel like complete shit."

Jon is too good at apologizing. He'll always be the nicest person Lea knows, and this is no different, her careful façade crumbling as she hears the words leave his lips.

"It's not your fault, I should have known better."

"No, he should have never said those things to you. You were right. And I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you call?"

"I thought you-- I thought you didn't want to talk to me," he whispered, and she can practically see the way he crumbles as he says it, "god, baby, if I had known--"

"I-I know."

"And you're right. No one is ever even going to come close to what we have. You mean everything to me, Lea. Karl doesn't get that, but he doesn't have to. I don't care if he feels jealous. You're the mother of my child, and all that matters is that _you're_ happy."

There's only one thing missing. _I'm in love with you_

"Jon?"

"Mm?"

"It's Christmas Eve."

"I miss you, too, baby," she hears his voice break, wishing for the moment that she had gone through with it and gotten on a plane to go see him instead of calling.

&

A week after Christmas, it's still snowing in New York, and all hopes of him going out to Los Angeles to spend New Year's with Lea are dashed when he sees the weather report, no flights leaving New York City. 

"I don't see why you'd want to go see her, Buckaroo," Karl informs him brusquely over the stew he's cooking for both of them, Jon's fingers nervously tap a rhythm on the counter as he watches. They still haven't talked about _it_ , if only because Jon has _no idea_ how to start a fight. He wasn't made for this, wasn't made for his best friend and his partner fighting like it's the end of the world with him between the two of them. Things have been tense.

"You were out of line," he finally says, setting his phone down as he feels his stomach clench up. "You shouldn't have said those things to Lea."

"Do you really think I'm blind?" Karl turns to face him, ladle still in hand. "Do you honestly think I don't see the way she looks at you? It doesn't help that she's having your kid, you know, that I'm just standing by like some ridiculously gullible third wheel no one really wants around."

"You know that's not true," Jon hears himself say, getting off the barstool to take the ladle out of Karl's hand and wrap his arms around him. "But as long as I'm still here, it's honestly none of your business if she has feelings for me or not."

And as much as what he's saying is true, it doesn't change the fact that Jon _is_ , essentially, cheating on him with Lea, a part of him feeling very much as though Karl knows what's going on.

"But the fact of the matter stands," he continues, running a hand through Karl's hair, "that you don't tell a pregnant woman that the baby isn't hers. Lea is my best friend. I want you two to get along."

"Picking her was a mistake," he sighs with a nod, making Jon's stomach twist horribly in his gut, "but I'll try, okay? For you."

&

"Happy New Years to my favorite mommy," he smiles into the phone despite the forlorn look he's throwing at the New York weather reports. "I'm sorry I can't make it out."

"I think I felt a flutter today."

His reaction is almost instantaneous, dropping everything as he gets up as though he might be able to run to her if only he were fast enough, tried hard enough. 

"Really?"

"It... wasn't a kick, or anything, but yeah. Like butterflies tickling the inside of my belly."

The soft, happy sigh as he lets his eyes close means everything, Jon feeling more contented for a moment than anything else. "That's fantastic."

"I'm even starting to look pregnant enough that people don't just think that I'm overeating," she laughs, and he has to fight the urge to rent a car and just drive through the damn blizzard to see her, start the new year off right.

"I wish I could be there to kiss you at midnight."

"I wish you could, too. But-- it's better this way."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to start the new year with you unless I can finish it with you, too."

Lea has the ability to have him laughing one second and tearing his heart out the next, like particularly indecisive Midwest weather. It's a damn good thing that Karl is already asleep on the couch next to him, that he can't see the way he's tearing up and running his hand through his hair.

"If Karl and I were to split up--"

"You _won't_ ," she whispers harshly, half-prophecy and half-demand. She's right, of course. If he loses Karl now, it'll all be because of Lea again, because neither of them are capable of functioning relationships thanks to the other. 

On the other hand, it's a shitty reason to stay with someone, and they both know it. 

Later that night, the fireworks going off all over New York City, Jon still can't think of anyone whom he'd rather be kissing right now, the hot cocoa in his hands as he sits out on the fire escape a sorry reminder of the person missing on his lap.

&

"So I've made a list of names. I figured we'd want to pick one sooner rather than later."

"Um, what?"

"Names for the baby."

His most immediate thought jumps straight to Lea, and how she should be involved in this decision as much as anyone else, and the guilt hits him almost instantly as he sits down opposite Karl and his list, conflicting emotions attacking him all at once.

"But we don't even know the gender yet."

"Exactly. Which means that we can be prepared ahead of time. I was thinking that we could turn the spare bedroom into the nursery, and I'll move my art supplies elsewhere."

"And where will our guests sleep?" Jon asks, his mind jumping right back to Lea, who is supposed to live with them-- not that she knows that yet-- and the fact that Karl has a point. They _do_ need a nursery, the stark reality of the reminder that they're _having a baby_ hitting him seemingly all at once.

"We never have guests, Buckaroo. Anyway, I made this list, and I wanted you to look over it and tell me what you think."

_BOYS:_

_1\. Wesley  
2\. Colin  
3\. James  
4\. Nathan  
5\. Preston  
6\. Timothy_

_GIRLS:_

_1\. Grace  
2\. Astrid  
3\. Madeline  
4\. Sutton  
5\. Julianna  
6\. Sarah_

"... we're not naming out child Sutton. I love Sutton Foster as much as the next Broadway fanatic, but no."

"Any of the others, then."

"Lea should be part of this conversation," he mutters, shaking his head as Karl opens his mouth to protest. "No, she should. She's having the damn baby, she should get to help with this. Never mind that none of these names is going to sound good with our last names. _Groff_ and _Hoffman_ just don't go together. There's too many _F_ s."

If they were to get married-- which they _wouldn't_ , Lea's heartbroken face at the forefront of his mind at the thought-- this wouldn't be an issue in the first place. He wouldn't change his name, and therefore, neither would Karl, but this is different.

In the end, they settle tentatively-- waiting on Lea's okay-- on Madeline Sarah and Wesley James. But Jon knows-- one word from Lea, and they're out the window, anything she prefers taking the upper hand almost instantly.

&

It's two a.m. when he wakes up from the frantic phone call from Lea, but he's alert and sitting up in bed two seconds later when he hears her sobbing on the other end.

"What is it? What's wrong, baby?"

Thankfully, Karl is a deep sleeper much unlike Jon, and even as he gets out of their bed and goes to pace in the living room, he doesn't wake. 

"It's kicking," he hears on the other end, and it's almost as though he can feel his heart stopping in his chest, Los Angeles feeling about as far away as the end of the world in that moment.

"Really? I mean, are you sure?"

"Three times, Jon. I can feel it through my belly, and the doctor today said that he could hear the heartbeat with just a stethoscope now, and I just-- I really want you here. The nurse today said she knew the gender, but I didn't want to find out without you here."

"Oh," he breathes, feeling his heart in his throat as he realizes that the little thing growing inside of Lea is actually real, a boy or a girl, something for them to love and cherish and take care of, and the tears well up all too readily as he stares at his calendar. "We'll be there in a couple of days, okay? My audition for Millie is in two days, but after tha--"

"No, please don't bring him. I really need _you_ right now, Jon. Please? Promise me."

"I promise," he tells her far too readily, already marking off the days when he'll be out of town. "I'll get the tickets right now and give you my dates. We'll be-- we'll be a real family, okay?"

That makes her lose it completely, and he can hear her falling apart on the other end, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and make it better again.

"I miss you," she whispers through a choked sob, and he has to fight to hold it together for her.

"I miss you, too, baby."

&

This time around when he arrives at LAX, he doesn't just pull Lea into his arms-- she's too big to twirl properly by now, though that doesn't stop him from picking her up bridal style and spinning her that way-- but also takes the time to say hi to his son or daughter, getting on his knees in front of Lea as she beams down at him, both hands on her growing belly. Leaning in to kiss through the fabric of her sweater, he throws her a bright grin. 

"We love you so much, little baby. Your mommy's been taking such good care of you in there, and I know I haven't been around as much as I'm supposed to, but I'm your daddy, and I'm here now. And you have to promise me that when I leave again that you won't let mommy get lonely, okay? Because she does get lonely without me. Daddy can stay strong on his own without her, but mommy deserves some help, okay?"

By the time he comes back up to meet her at eye-level, she's half-crying, half-laughing, burrowing her face into the front of his shirt.

They can't get home fast enough, Jon realizing in that moment alone how much more _at home_ he feels when he's with her, whether they're in New York or not.

"Call-backs were yesterday," he whispers into her hair, all peaches and perfection, "I got the part, I'm going to be Jimmy Smith, Lea."

"I knew it! I knew you could do it! Didn't I tell you? You're perfect for the part!"

She pulls back from him to beam wider than he can remember, and suddenly his eyes feel unable to take in all of the changes of her body at once, his mouth incapable to get to hers fast enough as he kisses her, impatient. He tries to keep it as soft and contained as he can, knowing that the paparazzi are everywhere around her, and pulls away as reluctantly as ever.

"We should get home," she whispers through a smile, grabbing hold of his hand.

&

"You're getting careless," she tells him quietly when they're not five minutes from her condo, and he already knows what she's talking about.

"Maybe I don't care anymore."

"We both know that's not true. You care, and I'm supposed to be carrying your and _Karl_ 's child, and if Karl finds out that you're kissing me in the middle of LAX like I'm your--"

"It was perfectly platonic!"

"We both know that's _also_ not true," she continues, throwing him a stern glare. 

It hasn't snowed in LA at all, but the temperature and the sight of the surrounding landscape as spring-like as it is still astounds him as he drives down the highway, Lea's hand in his.

Of course he cares. That doesn't mean he _wants_ to.

"You know what my favorite part about this is? We get to spend Valentine's Day together."

"... right. About that."

The tone in her voice is one she only uses when she feels incredibly guilty about something, and Jon throws her a _look_. Is there someone else? The thought makes bile rise in his throat, and he wonders if this is how she feels every single day that he's still with Karl.

"Stephen is coming over that day."

Steve is hardly competition, Jon letting go of a slight sigh of relief as he nods. "Let him come. We'll see what happens."

"No-- Jon, I know what that means, coming from you. You're-- things are going to get out of hand, and he's--"

"What, an idiot who never deserved you in the first place?"

"Jon--"

"Come on, race you up to the apartment," he grins, parking the car and grabbing his bags just in time to start running up the stairs. 

They hit the bed together, him hovering over her growing body, careful not to crush her but already scrambling to get her light sweater off of her and her pants undone. The high-pitched mewl from her throat is enough to have him straining against his pants, struggling to get his pants unzipped and down around his ankles as quickly as possible, peeling off pants, socks, and shirt in short order as Lea slides her own pants down her legs as gracefully as she can manage with the obstruction of her belly in the way.

"Let me--" she whispers, pushing him onto his back as she moves to slide down on top of him in one go, a decisive groan leaving him as he thrusts up into her, his hands massaging her swollen breasts as she leans down as best as she can to kiss him. 

"Oh god, Jon," she whimpers, moving faster as he holds onto her hips to thrust up into her from his vantage point on the bed, needing her _now_. Oral sex could wait for later; for now, this was far more important, him reclaiming Lea as his, reminding her of how beautiful he thought her even more than five months into her pregnancy.

"Fuck, Lea," he groans out loud, moving her faster, the way her body begs him to, until she's coming harder and faster around him than he's ever recalled her coming.

"It's-- it's sex in the second trimester," she pants on top of him, her body fighting to keep up with the intensity of it all, "I'm sorry, I should have said something."

"Baby, I'm not about to complain," he breathes softly, reaching up to touch her as he starts thrusting again.

He hasn't had sex with Karl in a while, not that anything can compare to what he and Lea have, here, even remotely. It makes him wonder whether that's why Steve is making an effort on Valentine's Day, trying to get in Lea's pants once more after too much time where Lea only sleeps with him. 

It only takes him a few more thrusts after her second orgasm follows shortly to come inside of her with a groan, spilling himself as deeply as he can manage as his hips press up into hers, her name on his lips with the arch of his spine. 

There's no place he'd rather be than falling asleep than with her in his arms, he realizes faintly as her small body rolls this way and that way within the confines of his embrace, and he tugs her a bit closer until he can smell her hair, peaches sending him into restful contentment for the night.

&

"You have this adorable little mole right... here," she laughs, fishing around the collar of his shirt to point at the small dot. "Right by your clavicle, kind of in this... hollow under your neck. I like to kiss you right there, you know. You're really ticklish around there."

"Someone's in a good mood today," he beams, catching her hand to lean in to kiss her on the cheek, though he can hardly fault her for it.

"I can't wait to find out."

Really, he can't either. He feels like a giddy schoolgirl, like it's Christmas morning and Lea is one of his presents. As it is, he already can't keep his hands off of her belly no matter how hard he tries, eager to feel the baby kick over and over and over again, occasionally bringing his ear down to strain himself into hearing the heartbeat. 

"Miss Sarfati? We're ready for you, now."

Clutching onto his hand, Jon can tell that she's beaming just as brightly as he is as they go into the room for the ultrasound, practically vibrating with excitement. Whenever he isn't anxiously tapping his foot, he's tucking his hair messily back behind his ears or drawing frantic circles on the back of Lea's hand with his thumb. 

"So, last time I checked, we were waiting to find out the gender until daddy dearest would be here, right?"

"That's right," Lea announces, grinning widely as she looks to Jon, squeezing her hand reassuringly as he grins back. "We're very excited."

"I would be, too," the nurse nods, getting Lea set up in the stirrups. "Do we all want to know now?"

"Please," he nods, feeling his heartbeat in his ears.

"Well, you two are going to be the proud parents of a lovely baby girl! Congratulations!"

Jon could die happy in this moment, knowing that Lea is right here by his side, knowing that the little heartbeat they've been hearing for months on the ultrasound is that of his little baby girl, that _she_ is going to love them both as unconditionally as he loves Lea, without question or hesitation. Knowing that he'll buy her dinosaurs and trucks if she wants them, that if she decides one day that she'd rather be a boy, or that she likes girls, that he'll be more proud than any other father on this planet, because she's all his, his heart bursting out of his chest as he tears up, clutching onto Lea's hand with both of his.

Lea's crying, too, he notices, and he realizes, suddenly, that it will never, _can_ never work between Karl and him, that Lea will always win, and that they won't last, that he doesn't even want them to. 

She's the mother of his _daughter_ , and she deserves every last bit of this with him, doesn't deserve having to give this up to anyone else, because she's perfect right where she is, by his side.

&

"I like the boy names better."

"I honestly don't like any of them very much," he sighs, letting the list return to its spot on the table as he frowns. "What names were you considering?"

"I wasn't." It should be obvious, really, why she wouldn't consider any names to begin with. It's _not her baby_ , not hers to keep, name, love, decorate the nursery for. But Jon looks insistent, and she shakes her head slowly. "I thought I wasn't supposed to."

"No, you know what? That little girl is all ours. We're-- we're a real family, and you're her mom. You should get to help me pick."

"Jon, she's not--"

"I haven't even _told_ Karl that she's a girl yet," he whispers, moving onto his knees beside her seat to look up at her, eyes pleading. 

"Josephine," she finally whispers back with a nod. "I think we should name her Josephine."

She's had her kids' names picked out since she was five, Josephine Marie for a girl, Ian James for a boy. When she turned twenty, she resolved, very firmly, not to have any children, and those names quickly took a backseat to her career. 

Jon has always managed to turn her life around faster than she can blink. Giving her the most perfect Melchior for whom she could have asked, the most perfect best friend, the most perfect life partner. 

"Josephine Marie," she tells him softly, placing a gingerly hand on the swell of her abdomen.

"We can call her Josie, for short," he beams up at her, leaning up to kiss her properly before interlacing their fingers on her belly. "I love it, Lea."

&

Valentine's Day, for the most part, is lovely. Despite the slightly chilly weather, they brave Disneyland for the day and finish their late afternoon with a stroll through the city, only making it back in time to make dinner and wait for Stephen to arrive. 

Knowing Jon, knowing Stephen, and knowing how much the two of them hate each other, this is going to be a disaster. 

They've only gone out a couple of times since the last time they had sex, and as much as he keeps talking about commitment, and how she won't be able to have that with Jon, she's fairly certain that he wants to touch her about as much as she wants to touch him, at this point. A part of her really wanted to just cancel on him-- there's honestly no point to even trying anymore by now-- but Jon insisted. 

"It'll be fine," he grins over his shoulder before returning to his haphazardly chopped carrots. "I don't know what you're so worried about. It's not like I'm going to beat him up."

"I'd like to see you try!" she laughs, stiffening only when she hears the knock on the door, her face falling as she feels her chest constrict.

"Hey babe," Stephen grins as he steps in to kiss her. "Wow, you've gotten massive."

"I'm five mo--"

"What the hell is he doing here?"

She hears him drop the knife before she can stop the trainwreck from happening, Jon turning to face Stephen with a grimace, lips drawn tightly together as he glares. "She's _pregnant._ Take it back."

"Why, because you take pride in knowing it's your fault that she's like this?"

" _Apologize to her_."

"It's Valentine's Day. _You_ don't belong here."

"I belong by Lea's side when she needs me. Like when dickheads like you show up."

"Jon, stop," she whispers, looking to him with big eyes as she shakes her head. Jon rarely gets angry, and Lea can admit honestly that, of anyone she knows, he has by far the sweetest disposition. He tries to avoid fights like the plague, and thought he can get possessive, it never translates to anything like this, Lea gingerly placing a protective hand on her belly. 

"See? She wants me to stay. Don't you, babe."

It's the presumptuous tone, the way he grabs hold of her upper arm to tug her hand off her belly, the way he drags her closer that alerts Lea to the dangers of letting this get out of hand. 

" _Let go_ of her."

" _Make me_."

The fist flies through the air before she can even think to stop it, and she's never felt so pregnant before. All hope of catching him before it happens is out the window as she watches Stephen fly back against the door, promptly picking himself up to grab onto Jon's collar.

Under normal circumstances, she'd try to break them up herself, but she feels entirely too pregnant, panic setting in as she yells at them to stop it. 

It's only when Jon actually shoves Stephen off of him instead of trying to squabble with him that she realizes that she's been heard through all of her screaming at them, rushing to undo the latch on the door and hold it open.

Stephen leaves of his own accord without her needing to say anything, and she doesn't realize that she's been holding her breath until it all seems to rush out at once as she closes the door behind him. 

"You really shouldn't have done that," she tells him quietly as Jon's arms wrap around her midriff from behind, burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

"I know. But he never deserved you in the first place."

"I-- I have something for you." Slipping out of his grasp, she disappears into her bedroom, rifling through her underwear drawer before pulling out a small Valentine's card. "I know Donatello was always your favorite, and I know purple is your favorite color, too, so I figured I'd get you once since no one probably got you one since grade school."

He looks almost as though he can't believe what he's seeing when she hands him the card, the way he carefully takes her face in his hands as he just stares at her. 

"I want you to move in with me."

&

By the time Jon leaves again, Lea feeling both more and less heartbroken than she felt before, she finds herself surrounded by boxes.

She's started packing before now, really, knowing that she'd be leaving the condo sooner rather than later, she just didn't think it would happen within this context.

Telling him that she'll think about it is like begging her future to slow down and stop coming at her so quickly. It doesn't work for very long, not when she already knows she's made her decision, no matter how poor of one it may be. But after everything he's said over the last several days, Karl and him won't last, but the two of them _will_. 

He's promised her that Karl will be amicable, of course, and that he's already ready for her to move in. He's also told her that there's nothing he'd rather have happen.

So now, surrounded by partially-filled boxes, pictures of her and Jon in every damn corner of her apartment and her hand on her growing belly, she can't help picking up her phone to call him and tell him _yes_.


	6. Chapter 6

"This is for my very best friend in the audience tonight," he beams, the crowd already going nuts the second the words _best friend_ leave his lips, and he can't help the grin that threatens to spread even further, "who will be joining me here on the stage in a couple of moments, though she doesn't know it yet. Shh, don't tell her."

The wink is almost too much, and she can feel herself flushing, her hand moving instinctively onto her abdomen, all sheepish laughter and shock that he'd do this. 

"Our friends on the front porch are telling jokes and they swing swiftly towards happier times--"

She loves Jason Mraz, and he knows this, so when she hears "0% Interest" come on, the slow grin seems to get away from her. 

"You left your thumbprint inside me now for months it seems, but mine only brushes your soft surface and somehow it leaves me listless."

It doesn't hit her about what he's singing until he slows down the lyrics, and her eyes go wide. He can't be. It can't be. 

At the same time, he also refers to her as his _little sister_ in practically the same breath, and Karl appears to relax beside her just slightly, and she's quick to wipe the tears from her eyes as she scrambles to clap for him as the song comes to a close.

"As I'm sure you've all read by now, there's this amazing woman in the audience tonight who's having my baby," the slight pause is enough to make her heart jolt, "for my partner and me, who also happens to be in the audience tonight. That alone has her deserving a spot beside me on this stage tonight, I think," he beams, patting the seat of the new chair next to him. "Ladies and gentlemen, Lea Michele!" 

Clambering out of her seat and up to the stage as the crowd erupts in thunderous applause once more, he leans in to kiss her on the cheek before she takes her spot next to him, all soft grins for him as she takes the microphone.

That night they perform "Lucky," "The Guilty Ones," "Rolling in the Deep," and "Miss Hollywood," Jon occasionally filling in the space between songs to talk about Josie, his hand never too willing to leave her abdomen for too long a stretch.

It's sweet, and when they all walk home down Broadway, she knows his hand is itching to take hers.

&

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I could ask the same of you," she says, dangling her legs off of the counter as she smiles into her tea. "You have this way of handling your microphone stands, you know. Like you should be married to them."

Taking the cup out of her hand to place at her side and deftly stepping between her legs to pull his arms around her waist, he moves to rest his forehead on hers, beaming widely. Her bump is pressing up against his stomach, and the connection-- him, her, and their baby in between-- feels perfect.

"I'm not married to you."

"Hasn't stopped you yet, right?" That coy smile on her face is going to be the death of him some day, and he smirks, leaning in close to her ear.

"Are you implying you were turned on by my performance in there?"

"Until you sat down and invited me up onto the stage? _Yes_ , sir."

That makes him laugh, loud and entirely genuine, his whole body rocking her back and forth alongside. All until he remembers that he has a boyfriend fast asleep in the next room over, and they should be quieter.

"Should have told me," he whispers into her ear, intent on sending shivers down her spine as his hand moves to cup her ass, the other slipping around her neck to tug her in closer. _Peaches_. 

"Jon--"

"Shhh, baby, daddy's going to make it all better again."

"Daddy, we _can't_."

"Lea--"

He knows they can't. Well, _shouldn't_. But right now, he wants Lea, and as much as he tries, he can't shake the feeling of _needing_ to have her now, no excuses passing between them anymore, not even when he tastes tears on her lips as he kisses her, hard, hard, soft, and she scrambles to get his shirt off of him as quickly as possible. 

"Your room," he mutters firmly, slipping out from between her legs to pick her up bridal style instead. "We'll lock the door. We can do this if you promise to be really quiet."

She nods against him, holding on tightly as he carries both her and Josie into her bedroom all at once, placing them gingerly down on the bed before slipping back out to turn off the light and lock the door.

"You're my whole family now," he whispers into her ear once he's by her side again, his body molding against hers from behind as one hand find home on her belly, the other dipping into her panties to feel her, slipping first one, then two fingers inside of her.

"Daddy--"

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. We just need to be quiet."

His fingers find her clit, and he groans when he hears her helpless whimpers, the way she desperately bucks up against the pressure. He's already hard, but teasing her will only make her louder, and as much as he appreciates the noises she makes, waking up Karl is the very last thing that they need to have happen right now. 

"Jon, please," she begs, and he nods against the crook of her shoulder, tugging her panties off. The way she spreads her legs to him, he strokes himself once, twice, before pushing gradually inside, Lea letting out a low moan as her head falls back against him. 

"You feel so good, baby," he breathes, stroking her hair back to keep it out of her face as his hand keeps her on the brink of orgasm on her clit as he thrusts, shallow, quiet, desperate.

He and Karl haven't had sex since about a week ago, and Lea feels fucking amazing around him. But even more important than that, something he's been almost dreading to admit to himself, the emotional intimacy just isn't there anymore. He and Lea have been doing this for years, and nothing has ever changed. Their bond has always been a more profound one, and he can't think of anyone that would come even remotely close to Lea.

That scares the shit out of him.

"Jon," she pleads, turning slightly in her position to look at him. Her eyes are damp, and he doesn't have to be told twice that it's _his_ job to fix it, kissing her cheeks dry. "I love you," she mutters softly, and he nods as he strokes her hair.

"I love you, too. With all my heart."

"Promise?"

" _Of course_ I do."

When she comes against his hand, it only takes him one, two more thrusts to spill inside of her, the desperate need to feel her taking him over with a soft groan, clutching onto her body as though she were slipping away.

"Jon?"

Her voice returns him to alertness, and he blinks awake to slowly kiss a path up her neck. "Hm?"

"You can't fall asleep here."

She has a point, of course, and as reluctant as he is, he grabs tissues for both of them off the headboard, making quick work of cleaning himself up and putting his pajama pants back on.

When he slips back into bed with Karl, Lea safely tucked into the guest bedroom by herself, it takes him just two seconds to come up with the feasible excuse that Lea needed to talk, and that he was there to support her. It's enough for Karl, half-asleep, but it isn't enough for Jon, staring at the ceiling helplessly as he realizes that there's someone else he'd rather be wrapped around right now, and that they're the wrong gender, that this is all wrong. That gay men aren't supposed to fall in love with their girlfriends, that this feels rather like the universe has played a cruel, elaborate trick on him.

&

Karl has these terribly annoying little habits, things he _knows_ shouldn't annoy him as much as they do. The way he can't ever _not_ put a coaster under his coffee mugs, the way he never eats his olives when he orders martinis, the way he always feels the need to binder-clip the toothpaste while rolling it slowly up... it's excessive. 

And while they've both been behaving themselves just fine with one another, it doesn't stop Jon from begging Lea for a weekend elsewhere, anywhere else to escape Karl's habits and the fact that they never have any time for just the two of them. 

Karl is around during the day and goes to class at night. At night, Jon's performing in _Millie_ , and while Lea has come along to the show on several occasions, taking up space in his dressing room, watching his performance over and over-- it's not the same as curling up on the couch with her to watch classics.

So it's no wonder that they're both in the Bronx with her parents for dinner-- delicious, as always, Italian tonight, the whole chatter amongst the table heartfelt, genuine, and welcoming. He always feels at home with her parents, where, even with just the four of them, it still feels like the place is packed. 

It's only after dinner, Lea and her mother plating the cake they're supposed to have for dessert, that Lea's father drags him into the living room with him.

"You can't just get her pregnant and then back out on the commitment. I mean it. I'll buy you a house."

"As generous as that is, Mr. Sarfati," he can't help but laugh, "if I was going to marry your daughter, I'd do it for the right reasons."

&

"What did you two talk about?"

The mid-March air is still chilly even for New York, and he's glad they both packed coats as he grins down at her, the smell of exhaust fumes and steam from the manholes in the street mixing together to create something that is so distinctly _Manhattan_ that he has to smile. Even with only a few blocks to walk from the Subway stop to his-- and _Karl's_ , he has to remind himself-- apartment, it's nice to slow down and enjoy the night with Lea by his side.

"I told him I'd think about it."

"About what?"

"Marrying you."

That makes her laugh, the loud, brash, disbelieving one that he wants to kiss away as it dies out, and she's left staring up at him quizzically. "That's not a very nice thing to joke about to a lady, Jonathan Drew."

"I'm not," he leans down to kiss her on the top of her head as he grins into her hair. "You always said we'd make a fantastic married couple."

"I think Karl might have some objections to that, don't you?"

"He'd survive," he laughs, and means it.

&

She's fallen asleep with her head in his lap, Jon's fingers tracing slow patterns in her hair. The TV is off, and he's doing his best not to move despite the cramp slowly developing in his left leg, lest he wake her. If he watches her belly closely enough where her shirt has ridden up just barely, he can almost detect movement under the skin, their daughter. 

It's quiet enough that the door's slow unlocking might as well have sounded like a bulldozer, and he flinches. 

"You know I've been trying to call you for the past half hour."

The sharp inhale of breath, the way he tenses at Karl's pained, whispered confession feels like an inevitability. 

"There was a really bad accident thirty blocks from here, and the cab was getting nowhere fast, so I figured I'd let you know that I'd be late when I started walking instead. But you didn't seem to care. It's like you weren't even concerned enough to pick up your fucking phone and see why I might be a goddamn hour late."

His voice is stifled, the veiled anger behind it contained just barely. 

"It was on silent," he returns his terse reply, the lump in his throat slowly nearing the size of a golf ball. 

" _Of course_ it was."

This conversation has been a long time coming. Even Jon can recognize that much. 

"You know, when I flirt with a cute stranger at an LGBT charity event and he flirts back, most of the time I don't expect him to be in love with a _girl_."

"You _take that back_."

He instantly regrets the way his head whips around to face Karl when Lea inevitably begins to stir in her sleep, blinking awake as she slowly sits up her very pregnant form. 

This isn't where they should be having this conversation. Not with her here, not now, his stomach in knots. 

"What's happening?"

"Lea, please-- please don't. Not now."

"It's been true for _months_ ," Karl continues, not caring very much about the audience suddenly listening in on their conversation. "Do you honestly think I don't have enough of an imagination to know what happens when I'm not here? Just because her chest could pass as a boy's--"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" he spits, getting up out of his seat to face him, already missing Lea's warmth against him. "She's my _best_ friend."

"I'm your _partner_! I'm supposed to be your best friend!"

In all fairness, he has a point. But this is _Lea_. She's always been the one and only exception. He loves men. He really does. He enjoys having sex with men, not _wo_ men, and yet, there's Lea, beautiful and perfect for him in her own feminine way, making him think that there must be exceptions in the world, that labels are for those who can't accept the reality of the complexity of their hearts and minds. 

"That's unhealthy!" Lea cuts in, getting up off the sofa to glare at Karl, her hands on her hips. "A wide social circle where you don't rely entirely on your partner to be everything to you is the key to a good, solid, stable relationship."

"Lea, please--"

" _Don't_ try to shut me up!"

"Lea, _he's right_ ," he mutters hotly, turning to face Karl with a sigh. "Which is why I don't think that this is going to work. You have that friend of yours, in Brooklyn. Or your parents in town. Stay with them. You have the whole weekend to move out."

&

It only takes them half an hour to pack and an hour for the fight to escalate further, Karl suddenly fighting for them while Lea is forced to sit and watch his life fall apart because of her. None of it seems particularly fair, even from her vantage point now on one of the Blue Moon's hotel beds, not two feet from Jon.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault."

"No," he smiles at the bedspread with a soft laugh, "you were right. I kept holding onto Karl because I wanted so badly to prove that I could have a functioning relationship with someone who wasn't you, but it didn't work."

"It was nice of you to give him that time to move out."

"It was the least I could do." He sighs, getting up off the bed to put on his shoes. "I mean, I think we both knew it was coming sooner rather than later. He was just upset on principle that it had to be because of a girl."

"As long as that's not why you two broke up, I'm happy."

"Of course not, mommy," he laughs brightly, leaning over to kiss her. "Come on, let's go out to eat."

&

The restaurant down the street from the hotel is too ritzy for their tastes, and they settle on something a couple of blocks away, soup appropriate to the rainy mid-April weather that seems to have taken over the streets of New York City. It's an absolutely brilliant view out the window, if she ignores the way the waiter has been hitting on Jon unrepentantly for the past half hour.

"You know, it would be cuter if I was getting that kind of attention," she tells him brusquely as _Jacques_ leaves them alone once more after refilling Jon's water for five minutes.

"I don't know why you're not."

The way he's looking at her, squeezing her hand, the way he actually seems to mean what he's saying-- it's almost enough to make her question whether he isn't actually in love with her, too. No man could gaze upon her in this state and still find her appealing.

"That might have worked five months ago, when I didn't resemble a beached whale."

"I think you're beautiful."

She has to doubt. Not even the nurses at her new Gynecologist's office thought them any different from a normal couple when they went in for her 27-week check up, once again, without Karl.

Now Karl isn't a problem anymore, but neither of them has said anything about their relationship. This is, of course, partially Lea's fault, but a part of her feels distinctly as though she wouldn't feel so unsure about everything if Jon weren't flirting _back_ every time that very gay, very _male_ Jacques rounded their corner of the restaurant to stop and chat.

"Do you still... want to keep the baby?"

"Are you kidding?" he beams, leaning in to kiss her hand. "I'm in love with her. We'll raise her together, just you and me. We make the best team. You're my best friend, Lea. And there's no one else I could see myself raising little Josie with. So if you want to take her from me, I'm afraid you'll have to fight me."

&

"Hey," he sidles up behind her, wrapping an arm around her midriff to rest on her stomach as he slowly kisses a path down her neck.

"Hey," she mumbles back, turning in his arms to face him slightly. The baby is kicking, Jon smiling a little wider with every one he can feel through her belly.

"There's an upside to this, you know. Now we can stop fighting about what to do with the nursery and just paint it the way you want it. And we won't have to worry about where you're going to sleep anymore. Because it'll be beside me."

It's a comforting thought, even though she's not sure that she'll be able to take a lifetime of sleeping next to Jonathan and not being able to tell him that she's in love with him. Kissing, touching, loving, but not _being in love_ , the two things so irrevocably different that it aches in her chest.

On the bright side, this means a butter yellow nursery complete with ladybugs and butterflies, and the butterscotch-color changing table and crib set that she's been thinking about too much for this not to be her baby.

There's no way he doesn't know. She's sure of it, the way she looks at him, the way her touches linger for too long, the way she presses her body against his a bit too desperately and pretends that what she feels between them is real, not make believe.

Jon is a good actor, but the way that he would look at her sometimes in his roles as Jesse, as Melchior-- she wants to believe that it's possible, that it's not just in her head.

"And now we won't have to worry about getting caught fucking anymore," he murmurs, grinning into her hair.

The dress is a bit chilly, but it's easier than humiliating herself with maternity pants in her size, and a light jacket is usually enough. It makes it easier to get undressed when she can't see her own feet anymore, too, easily slipping out of sandals and bunching up the fabric of the dresses at her sides to tug them over her head. 

Jon is helpful, of course, kissing a long stripe up her back as he slides the dress over her head, and she sighs softly against him. 

This time, he doesn't even stop her when she moves to kneel at the side of the bed, taking him into her mouth as far as she can go as he groans and lets his head fall back. It's, admittedly, not very far. _Unlike_ Rachel, Lea does have a gag reflex, and Jon is, admittedly, on the larger size. And while gay men are known to be bigger than their straight counterparts by about half an inch or so, Stephen didn't even so much as compare, Lea's hand coming up to help out her mouth as she sucks, occasionally meeting his eyes from her position on the floor.

It's hardly his favorite, her sucking him off, and more often than not-- like now-- he'll push her back and pull her up onto the bed once more, kneeling between her legs until he makes her come. According to Jon, it reminds him too much of any guy, and he doesn't want to think, even once, that the girl he's sleeping with here, isn't a girl, that Lea is, and will always be, his only exception to heterosexuality.

She doesn't mind, relishing in the way her body arches against his mouth as she comes, the way he sidles up against her back as she curls up in fetal position in a natural response to her orgasm, drawn out of her languidly by deft, clever fingers and a tongue too good at this to only suck cock. He presses inside of her in one smooth, fluid motion from behind, his hand coming up around her body to palm at her breasts-- first one, then the other, gently biting at her shoulder as he groans into her skin.

"Fuck, Lea, baby--"

"Daddy--" she moans, rocking against him for more friction as his hands move to highlight her most feminine features in the midst of their fucking-- her breasts, the swell of her belly, her clitoris, the way she's soaked for him, his teeth tugging at her earlobe as he whispers in her ear.

"Love you, love you _so much_ , baby."

She comes on his cock without any further stimulation, her body pulsing around him as her fingers dig into the soft material of the pillowcase by her head, making her knuckles turn white as she cries out. Even Jon's expletives in all of his orgasmic throes sound like music to her ears, and even without the label of _I'm in love with you_ , she's grateful to be falling asleep in his arms when she does.

&

Admittedly, they should have both seen it coming.

With so little to do while Jon is gone to do _Millie_ , it would only seem natural that she'd suddenly find more time to visit her mom and dad, go shopping, reconnect with their _Spring Awakening_ family. Upon being asked, he insists it's not a date, but Jon-- normally a very good actor-- is a truly terrible liar at times, particularly in the face of her. 

It doesn't help much when Jon heads out with _friends_ , or receives phone calls from this or that guy. 

She flirts, of course, and usually in front of Jon-- deliberate, at that-- but at almost eight months pregnant, it never gets far enough to do much of anything, and in the end, she finds that she's made a lot of male friends, more than half of them requesting her to get them Jon's number.

The nursery only took them three weeks to finish, and with only six weeks left until her due date, the restlessness makes sense, of course. 

It's been raining entirely too much, and even in the flats she's resigned herself to wearing, it's too easily to slip, especially when you can't see your feet, especially when the steps leading down to the subway are so damn _steep_.

It's hard enough to get up again, but the cramping in her abdomen hits almost instantly, and suddenly it's not even a question of whether or not to bother Jon during rehearsal anymore.

&

"Where is she? Lea Michele Sarfati, where did they put her?"

"And you are?"

"I'm her--" 

It's a good question. Her gay best friend? Her boyfriend? If the number seeming to burn a hole in his pocket by now is any indication, he has no right to call himself her boyfriend. He loves her, of course, but that doesn't mean anything, especially not with the way his heart seemed to rush to his throat the second her sobbed words passed through the line. _Jon, I slipped, it hurts-- the baby, I need help--_

"I'm the father," he says as quickly as he can muster, his eyes flickering up at the map of the hospital above the secretary, as though it would have a _Lea_ -shaped label on it somewhere to indicate where he needs to be running to make sure she's really okay.

"Room 504," the nurse tells him, and he nods, quickly, rushing down the hallway to follow the signs telling him where to go. The stairs are good enough, the elevator is too slow, and in all his rush, he has to ask two more nurses for directions in the hopes of finding room 504. 

"Thank god," he finally feels himself let go of a breath he's been holding when he sees her sitting up in bed, seemingly fine, baby bump still there, as though it might disappear if he didn't watch it closely enough.

"I'm okay," she mutters, and he shakes his head as the smile blooms on his face, leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head. 

"I was so worried about you two."

"I'm fine," she reassures him again as he sits at the edge of the bed, interlacing their fingers on her belly. "And so is baby Josie."

"What happened?"

"My fall sent me into labor, but I got to the hospital quickly enough that they managed to stop it in time."

"Have I told you that you're _glowing_ lately? You're so beautiful. I was so worried that I wasn't going to see either of you again."

The baby kicks in response, and he feels his eyes itch, a damnable reminder that he's too invested in this, that suddenly, Lea's become his whole world, making him wonder whether she hasn't always been, and if anything has even changed, whether he's just been too stupid to notice it.

"I'm fine," she repeats again, her hand coming up to cradle his cheek, stroking softly. "How was rehearsal? Where you in such a rush that you forgot to put in your contacts?"

Right, the glasses. They feel uncomfortably comfortable on his face, and he pushes them back up on his nose with a soft smile.

"You don't like them?"

"Your glasses? I love them! They make you look so professor-chic."

That makes him laugh, and he grins at her before returning to address her original question. "My understudy took over. I got the phone call just before I was about to go on stage, so I kind of had to hurry and change into normal people clothes before taking the subway down here." Clutching onto her free hand, he gives another sigh of relief. "How long until I get you back?"

"They're just monitoring me for a bit longer, then I should be able to leave. They just want to make sure I don't go back into preterm labor."

"Then I'll stay right here until they let you go."

&

"You remember that engagement ring I gave you a couple of years back?"

"Of course."

It's right at the top of her jewelry box, it's own little section devoted to it entirely, Lea having reasoned that she ought to stop wearing it with Karl around. Her hand itches at the reminder that she's not wearing it, and she wrings her hands before returning her attention to the soy hot chocolate she's making them from scratch.

She's been ordered bedrest for the remainder of her pregnancy, but both Jon and her know that she's entirely too restless and stubborn to stay in bed all day. Making hot chocolate is a good outlet, and it isn't as though she feels too poorly to walk around the apartment.

"I want you to wear it."

He's been quiet for a good half hour, just staring at the counter, and with the sudden shift in the balance, Jon throwing everything off all at once, she almost spills hot milk all over herself as she glances over her shoulder, forcing her face to stay neutral.

"What?"

"I want you to wear it."

"I don't-- why? You've been... going out on dates, shouldn't I be allowed to, too? I mean, maybe it'll have to wait until I stop looking like a zeppelin, but... I mean, I should be able to."

"Do you think maybe... people can change? Their minds-- change their minds, maybe? That maybe they've just been wrong for years, and they've been fighting it for so long that they're not even sure what's real anymore? Or what you want? Just that you're... feeling all of these things, unable to explain any of it in context of this... identity you've spent your whole adult life building? That maybe you're a complete idiot, and everything is different, and you've been wrong this whole time?"

Suddenly, she feels ill, wondering if the ache in her chest and the clogged feeling in her throat are ever going to go away when he gets her hopes up like that. But she can't say it, can't tell him if it turns out to not actually be _true_. Maybe he's decided he's actually vegan, or that he suddenly hates yoga. It shouldn't make so much sense. So she settles for the next best thing.

"My mom... always used to say that... when someone shows you who they are, you should believe them. And I've always believed you, Jon."

"Do you remember the last time I was on _Side by Side with Susan Blackwell_? Someone asked me if the taste of your mouth reminded me of home by now, and I said no."

"Yes," she breathes, suddenly unable to stare at anything but the hot chocolate boiling in front of her. It's not supposed to be boiling, and at this rate she's going to spoil it, but it doesn't matter, not with the way she can feel her eyes watering as she forces herself to keep staring at the stove, not daring to turn around and face him.

"I said that because you were never mine to come home to," he whispers, an she squeezes her eyes shut, her hands clamping around the edge of the counter, hard, to the point of pain, holding her breath. "I never had that luxury. Someone else always got to call you home, but it wasn't me. You were always an adventure, kissing you. I wasn't even supposed to _like_ kissing you, but I did. And I was too scared to explain it. And earlier today in my dressing room, 'Lucky' came on my iPod, and it was like my whole chest lit up."

"I don't understand." Her words come out more choked than intelligible, and if he didn't know before, he does now.

"I'm in love with you."

Flowing freely down her cheeks, there doesn't seem to be a way to stop the tears as she turns off the heat on the stove, wrapping her arms around her chest as she steps back. It's too much. 

"Lea, say something."

"I'm never going to be able to look at you as anything other than my soulmate," she whispers, feeling her heart ache in her chest even as she stares at the lifeless counter, knowing fully well that the second she looks at him, the second she turns around to face him, she'll dissolve into tears. "It's always been you, I think I've always been in love with you."

When he wraps his arms around her and kisses her, she can't help the tears, clutching onto his front with a fervor that betrays her fear of losing him with her words. 

But he doesn't let go, and even when he makes love to her that night, nothing changes. If anything, it's better, Lea realizing in one gasped moment as she catches the glint of her left hand in the lights of the city streaming through the open window, that she's no longer just sleeping with her gay best friend, but her fiancé.

&

"Do you know who blabbed?" Lauren's voice cuts through the other end, and Lea sighs, dangling her feet off the counter.

"No. It's not even like it's _official_ -official. We didn't have an announcement or anything. We've just been telling everyone _no comment_."

"Oh, trust me," she laughs. "I _know_. But this is _all_ over the media. Every single nook and cranny seems to think you're the first woman on this planet to turn a gay man straight. Some people are saying you're secretly a man."

"That's hilarious," she groans, looking up from her spot on the couch as she hears keys in the door. "Listen, Jon's home, so I'm going to let you go."

"You two have _fun_. And promise me we are having another family reunion soon, because the rest of the family is _dying_ to talk to you two."

Hanging up with a sigh and an apologetic look thrown at Jonathan, she frowns. "I have no idea what happened, but Lauren Pritchard wants to hear all about our sex life."

"Figures," he shrugs with a frown, leaning down to kiss her before tossing his coat on the back of the couch and kicking off his shoes. "I've been giving a lot of _no comment_ responses to everyone who asks."

"Me, too. I guess it doesn't help that you've had all that recent press doing _Millie_."

"And that _you're_ a big star," he grins, affectionately squeezing her thigh as he _plops_ down beside her. "I have an interview with _The Advocate_ in two days to talk about it."

That catches her attention, and she sits up straighter, trying to somehow relieve the pressure in her lower back and listen attentively all at the same time. 

"What are you going to say?"

"The truth. That it wasn't originally the plan for us to raise Josie together, but that even the best laid plans of mice and men fall through and change. That I'm in love with you, and that the LGBT community can either accept that sexuality is fluid in some instances, or they can't, and I'll be sorry to see them go. Have you talked to your parents yet?"

Her parents are a good diversion from something so near and dear to his heart. He's been so intimately in touch with the community, always so closely tied to their causes, that it hurts to see him lose that just for being who he is.

"My dad called earlier, wanting to know if he could _trust what was in the papers_."

"And?"

"Well, I told him the truth, obviously. He was absolutely thrilled;" an understatement, "said he couldn't _wait_ to welcome you into the family properly as his son-in-law."

"Ha! Am I still getting that house?"

"I don't think I'm going to _let him_ give you that house," she grins, playfully punching in the arm. "Your parents?"

"Want to come down and have dinner with us. Here. You should invite yours, too, it could be fun."

"You do realize that this is like the setup of a bad joke, right? A Mennonite, a Methodist, a Jew--" Her face pales, and she stops, a small whimper escaping her as her eyes go wide.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I-- I think I just made a mess of our couch," she whispers, feeling her whole dress soak through. "My water just--"

"I'm calling a cab, just-- don't move," he mutters, frantically searching for his phone.

"But we're not ready for this! We didn't pack!"

"I'm packing right now!" he yells over his shoulder, disappearing into the bedroom with his phone glued to his ear as she struggles to stand.

She's only a week away from the full nine months mark, and it shouldn't feel too early-- it's well within the window of time that the doctor highlighted for them back towards the end of October, and she's been uncomfortable for what feels like two months now, waddling from place to place without feet, feeling more and more like Garfield with every passing day.

But not being _prepared_ is even more terrifying, and she scrambles around the apartment for anything Jon might have missed in his effort to throw everything into the duffle bag all at once.

"There's a cab outside, come on, I can always run back to the apartment for more stuff if I need to."

"Did you pack my music?"

"Shit," he mutters, disappearing back into the apartment as she starts her slow trek to the elevator.

&

Everything seems to slow down significantly once she's in bed and being attended to by the nurses, including Jon's heart rate, having skyrocketed the second her water broke, and not daring to calm even for a second. He's just grateful that they arrived early enough that she could receive her epidural, numbing some of the pain of her contractions down significantly.

"Can I push? I want to push!"

"Not yet, honey, you're only six centimeters. But you're getting there. You're so close."

"But she wants to come out!"

He feels like a fish out of water. Most straight guys, he's _sure_ , know what to expect when this day comes, as though this is some kind of Superbowl of the Extremely Heterosexual Olympics about which he never learned from growing up gay. The majority of his knowledge about all of this that didn't come from Lea or her gynecologist came from the prenatal yoga sessions they both attended together, which altogether, doesn't count for much.

He feels completely lost, all of Lea's advice about what to do in this moment out the window as he feels himself unable to do much else other than stroke her back and tell her that he's proud of her, that things will be okay, and that he loves her.

"I'm going to call our parents, okay? My parents will probably get here in the morning, but I figured I need to tell them where we are."

With her permission, he slips back out into the hallway to breathe a sigh of relief and take out his phone, quickly dialing the number to contact her parents, both of them more likely to make it down to Manhattan to the hospital than his parents, and definitely people she'll want to have here as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Sarfati," he greets the man who has always requested to be called Marc as soon as he hears the phone being picked up, "we're at the hospital. Lea's in labor. If you and your wife could come down here, I think Lea could really use the support right now."

It's the easier phone call to make of the two, Jon still not having quite wrapped his head around the fact that he's _telling his mother that his daughter is being born_ even as he says it, his parents agreeing to rush down as quickly as they can make it, just as Lea's parents have.

&

It's an hour later until her parents arrive, a welcome distraction from the stress of fatherhood before fatherhood even sets in, and even with her parents there, distractions are hard to come by. 

By the time she's eight centimeters-- _three hours_ \-- they're singing "I Believe" together, by the time nine hits-- _two hours_ \-- it's "Lucky."

At least the songs are something else to focus on , and the epidural keeps her sane, though the contractions are still bad enough that she's walking aimlessly around the room in an attempt to save herself from the pain and the pressure on her back.

It takes another two hours until she she's finally dilated enough to push, Jon watching her and Josie's heartbeats almost as closely as he's watching Lea. All things considered, it's a miracle any of them are still awake. It's rounding around six a.m. by this point, and though Jon isn't feeling the impatient pressures of sleep take him over, he knows that her parents must be, out in the waiting area with a teddy bear, roses, and balloons to welcome baby Josie into the world whenever she decides to come out.

"I'm dying," she tells him quite seriously as she rounds out another push, and he feels his heart ache, placing a careful kiss at her temple as he clutches her hand more tightly. 

"You're doing amazingly, baby. Come on, you're almost there."

"No, I can't push any more, I don't want to."

"You're almost there," the nurse repeats, and he nods into her hair as he tugs her closer, wishing he could help, somehow, take some of her pain away, be a seahorse, _anything_.

An hour and a half later, Josephine Marie Groff's first cry rings clear through the room, and Jon can't stop himself from crying.

&

"She's so beautiful," Jon whispers as he sidles up closer to her on the hospital bed, Lea having scooted over enough until he could join her. Slowly, a lazy thumb traces over Josie's cheekbones, careful not to wake her small, sleeping form, and he smiles against Lea's cheek as he tugs her closer. "How are you feeling, mommy?"

"I have everything that I could possibly ask for," she laughs softly, beaming over at him. 

"Ten perfect little fingers and toes," Jon chimes in. "I think she's the most wonderful thing we've created so far."

"You think?"

"Nothing in the world comes close to this."

They've already survived both sets of parents, the bed now surrounded by light pink balloons and gifts here and there. It all feels a bit like Thanksgiving, but all crammed into one very stressful 2-hour period with very little food to show for.

"How aren't you tired, daddy?" she nudges him just in time for the yawn to take him over. 

"Extraordinary circumstances do wonders to keep you awake," he laughs. "I'll go home to sleep when I can take you and Josie with me."

"Even if it takes a whole day?"

"Even if it takes a whole day."

&

> ** Epilogue **

"No, Josie, we can't always run and scare the goats!" he laughs as he runs after her, snatching her up into the air until she's securely on his shoulders, laughing as he returns to Lea's side.

"I cannot believe you talked me into this."

"What, coming out here to visit my parents, or having another one?" he beams wider than she thought possible on him, and she can't help the way he seems to light up the whole place.

In this case, Amish country, his parents' farm, surrounded by goats. This is the last place she wants to be, she's sure of it, trying desperately to avoid stepping into _unpleasantries_ with her new shoes, Jon having told her expressly to avoid wearing them.

"Both?" she laughs, smacking him lightly on the ass.

"My mom said," he leans in conspiratorially as his hands play with Josie's up in the air, as though she were dancing, "that we are expressly forbidden from performing a rerun of Spring Awakening in the hayloft tonight." Grinning, he bounces Josie on his shoulders, their daughter looking every bit like she's having the time of her life on there.

"What does she expect? I'm already pregnant!" It's hardly what she's envisioned for herself, two kids-- she's putting her foot down after this one, _no more_ \-- but Jon is such a fantastic father that she can't help but agree, that even if his career takes a backseat to fatherhood, hers doesn't have to. 

Gender roles are outdated, he keeps reminding her, and now, with Josie at a solid four years old, and her at two months pregnant again, she's almost starting to believe him.

"I told her she could try to stop us, but that she'll probably fail," he laughs, picking Josie up off his shoulders again to place her at his hip. He's too good at it, fatherhood, running around the whole farm with Josie to show her the horses, the dog-- _Jesse St. James_ , she still can't believe it-- and the goats, Lea having expressly forbidden him from telling her that there's one named after her mother.

"Daddy, can we feed the goats?"

"Okay, but only _one more time_ , Pookie," he grins as he lowers her to the ground to take her hand.

"You and I have a date tonight in that hayloft," he beams at Lea, leaning in to kiss her just before Josie drags him off, still unable to wipe the smile off his face.

&

_fin_


End file.
